#i hope the days pass quickly 🥲

[lesbiancarat]

[NOTICE] SEVENTEEN JEONGHAN’s Military Service

Hello. This is PLEDIS Entertainment. We wish to share the news of JEONGHAN’s upcoming enlistment into the military, scheduled for September 26, 2024. As announced before, he will not be able to take part in the promotional activities for SEVENTEEN’s 12th mini album and the world tour. However, he will appear in various pre-recorded content. There will be no official event on the day of his enlistment, and we kindly request that you refrain from visiting the site of his military service. Please send your heartfelt messages of support for JEONGHAN through Weverse. We ask for your continued love and support for the artist. Kindly send your best wishes for his safe and healthy return. We will also stay committed to providing JEONGHAN with all the necessary support during this time. Thank you.

[tender-rosiey]

hiii 😭 I REALLY LOVE UR GOJO X YN SO MUCHHH 😔😔 I was also wondering like maybe what if y/n has a wound, like any where 🥲 it could be either on her back, arms, legs but she doesn't wanna tell gojo abt it and she hides it, then he will find out about it either she winces when gojo hugs her, starts wearing long sleeved clothes or her shirt lifts up while sleeping 🤧 TYSMM❤❤

strain — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I am honored that you like my works, love! hope you enjoy this as well 🫶💕🫶 also happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend: gojo satoru!! (it’s still his birthday in my country so hush I am not late)

you are more than a capable sorcerer. in fact, you are one of the strongest in the field.

however, like anyone else, there are some moments where things get a little out of hand, and you come back bearing a rather long slash on your left arm.

but since it’s pretty late, you decided you will bother shoko about it in the morning. that is how you’re finally in your home, with satoru nowhere to be found.

you frown lightly at the fact that he is still out there fighting curses, but a part of you feels relieved that you don’t have to explain your situation right now.

the night should pass by smoothly, and you will go to shoko tomorrow: a fool-proof plan!

so you do what you can to sanitize the wound, and cover it until you can get it treated properly. you also take the chance to indulge in your favorite snack as a good job treat.

after finishing your food and tidying up for the day, you’re finally in bed, all-cozied up and avoiding anything touching your wound as much as possible.

a deep breathe in, a deep breathe out, and you slowly drift to sleep.

not much time passes before satoru’s familiar footsteps echo throughout the house.

your husband has an abundance of energy.

but it seemed like today’s missions have drained him a bit more than normal, so he skips eating anything and heads straight to your shared bedroom.

his heart softens, and his muscles relax upon the sight of you tucked in bed. he walks to press a small kiss on your forehead, quickly changing into his pajamas and settling right by your side.

he stretches a bit and turns to spoon you as per usual, eyes closing in contentment.

but you wince, even if adeptly, and it sends alarms ringing through his head.

he jerks up, and his hand is instantly placed on your arm again, softly. there is an ever so faint change in your expression as your eyebrows furrow, and he has never pulled his hand away so fast.

he keeps debating in his head whether to wake you up or not, but he swiftly settles for the former.

he needs to know what happened. so he, regrettably, nudges your sleepy form, “y/n?”

you groan, but, nonetheless, you reply, “…what?”

while satoru often likes to base theatrics around his every move and phrase, but he also knows when to get straight to the point, “did you get hurt on today’s mission?”

you’re no longer half-asleep, and you quickly sit up, eyeing your husband. knowing there is no escape nor denial, you fidget with your fingers and nod slowly.

then you hurriedly utter, “but I was going to see shoko first thing in the morning; I promise!”

he nods slowly, holding your hands in his own. you’re left to look him in the eyes. satoru’s eyes being exposed makes him feel so vulnerable, or at least that’s how he is with you.

you can see every wrinkle, and every crease; you can see what he is thinking about in real time. he has long given up hiding anything from you, and, besides, it feels fresh to just let go.

but right now, as you look into his eyes, you see them swarming with confliction, pain, and worry.

he doesn’t scold you about not going right now because he knows that you will tell him that you either thought it wasn’t a big deal or that you didn’t want to bother shoko with it.

instead, he settles on a hushed whisper of “can I see it?”

you throw him a confused look, “why? I am getting it treated tomorrow anyway,” then you smile, “it’s not going to permanent if that’s what you’re worried about.”

he shakes his head, “it’s not that; I just—“ he takes a deep breath then looks at you pleadingly, “just let me see it.”

perhaps it’s to silence his thoughts and to show him that you’re truly okay, as okay as you can be.

you’re still alive, and that’s what matters, he thinks. nevertheless, he feels the need to see just how serious is the wound anyway.

reluctantly, you slowly take off your jacket to reveal the poorly bandaged gash on your arm.

he looks up at you, asking for permission because even if he needs to see it for his own selfish reasons, he has to put you above anything and everything else.

you nod, giving the free reign to slowly take off the bandages. you can barely hold back any pained noises, but you can’t help the wincing of your body.

satoru’s frown deepens, and with every move, your husband’s heart aches. it goes like that until the wound is finally unveiled.

you feel satoru observing the cut so intently that you look away. satoru curses everything that he can think of, and never has we wanted the ability to heal others more than right now.

he straightens his back, “that’s a deep cut, y’know.”

“I know…”

“you also realize that the wound could’ve hit your chest and inevitably heart, right?”

you huff, “listen, if you’re going to give me a lecture or keep making me feel bad about it then I will have you know—“

“you could’ve died.”

you notice the strain in his voice, so you turn to finally look eyes with him. he looks pained, so hurt, maybe even terrified at the fact that there was a chance that he could’ve lost you.

your expression immediately becomes that of sympathy, “but I didn’t, and dwelling on the fact that I might’ve died will only bother you for no reason,” you hold his hand, “I am here and alive, aren’t I?”

your husband sighs, resting his head on your right shoulder, “you’re hurting my poor little heart whenever you put yourself in danger like that.”

a giggle escapes your lips, and your hands naturally find their way in his hair, fingers gently carding through, “whatever shall we do.”

“if things went my way then you would just stay home looking all pretty like you always do,” he states, and you roll your eyes.

“well, they’re going my way tonight, so—“ the clock strikes twelve, “happy birthday, silly boy.”

his eyes widen and he pulls away to look you in the face. he blinks dumbly then looks at what’s in your hands: a cupcake with a candle.

a wide grin of unbridled joy appears on your husband’s face. his eyes shimmer in the moonlight as he laughs, “I really didn’t expect it this time!”

“you outdid yourself, pretty girl,” he hums, hand caressing your cheek.

“I still have a lot more things for you,” you beam with pride. satoru can’t contain himself anymore, and he pulls you into a loving embrace.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing a light kiss to the side of your neck.

you pat his back, “I love you too, ‘toru,” you laugh, “but you’re pressing on my wound, and I think I am just going to cry and not because of overwhelming love.”

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[eupheme]

Your best friend Wade who always jokingly flirts with you the way he flirts with everyone - and you hate it because you have a real genuine crush on him and the flirting doesn’t mean anything… does it? It has to take a mutual friend to be like “oh my god he’s in love with you and doesn’t know how to tell you, so that’s why he’s always joking about boners” (please and thank u ilu 😌)

omg avo this kicked my ass, the amount of pining for Wade as he (jokingly, you think) flirts with you would be off the charts 🥲💖 I wrote a little drabble with how that might go, I love you and your ideas - thanks so much for sending this to me!!!

— cause every time we touch (i get this feeling)

best friend!wade wilson x mutant!reader

<1k | flirting, dirty jokes, heaps of pining

Blow job. Leg Spreader. Slippery Nipple. Liquid Viagra. Sex on the Pool Table. Pink Silk Panties.

Each time Wade comes into Sister Margaret’s - which is four or five times a week - he asks for dirtier and more obscure drinks.

"Wishful thinking", he tells you, each time.

Even with the roll of your eyes, you have to admit that it keeps you on your toes. That you look forward to seeing your best friend so often - tamping down the jolt in your belly, night after night.

Reminding yourself that yes, he got you this job, but he's not here to see you.

That this always was his spot.

It had been an easy sell. Used to working overnight shifts - security, back then. After the disaster with Weasel, they had been desperate for a replacement. Wade had come to you immediately, dropping to his knees as you opened the door.

Winning you over with a "you could literally get paid to hang out with me. How is this not a win-win-win? How is this not your dream job?"

And here, you didn't have to hide what or who you were. Reading feelings and intent were a bonus, when a handshake could tell you everything you needed to know. Their feelings spilled as easily as they were written, when you were negotiating contracts.

It also helped in-house. A human lie detector. Able to break up fights, settle arguments. A party trick, when things got slow. The regulars trying to get things past you - tales based in truth spun tall, seeing when you'd catch them.

Wade never plays, but you think that's because you know him so well.

And what seems like a sell, quickly evolves into more. Warping, as days pass. Spending more time with a crush sounds tempting, on paper.

The reality is something else.

Yes, there is a seat saved for him at the bar. Literally saved - his name scrawled across the vinyl, and you still haven't been able to scrub it out. Stopping by at all hours to chit chat.

Teasing you - how he's "so glad he doesn't have to stalk you at your old job anymore". An over-the-top sigh about being relieved that you're safe now - in your new job, surrounded by mercs.

Begging for the best job. Puppy-dog eyes. Fake coupons for favors that would make a sinner blush. Crossing his heart that you could have anything, and he means anything you wanted, if he could only get "that thing involving the murder clowns".

It's enough to make you hope.

Later, at home - in the early hours as you're pulled under. Replaying his comments. The filthy jokes and the shameless flirting - wondering if that's all they were.

Wondering if he'd be waiting for you tomorrow, perched on his stool.

But there's the downfall.

You see him - but you also see him with everyone else.

The charming smiles. Head thrown back in a laugh as he works the room. A friend to all, and as you watch him - perched on the knee of a goddess of mercenary as he yaps away, you can't help the swift current of jealousy.

Of foolishness.

It's enough that you're almost regretting agreeing.

Your mood is sullen, as you wipe down glasses. Trying to ignore the ache when you see him flirt. That realization that the something special you thought he had with you, might just be a part of his personality.

And when Dopinder shuffles from the back with more ice for the chiller behind the bar, it only takes one look at you before he's sighing.

"Not again. Please, I am begging you. I cannot take more of your yearning.”

Your lips quirk. Hadn't realized you'd become that obvious. He'd become your go-to, in the long hours you spend together behind the bar. Pinkie-promising not to say a word - but you always thought you'd had a decent handle on your expressions.

"We don't have to talk about it." Your hands raise, placating, "Just let me yearn in peace. I'll get over it."

"You know that almost half of what DP makes a month is funneled back in here, right?" He gives you a long look, "Before you, I saw him once a week. I had to beg him to come get his paycheck."

Doubt still lingers.

"Doesn't mean anything," You shrug - eyes dropping, as you help him restock.

"You do not think Mr. Pool worships the ground you walk on?"

The intensity of his question has you side-eying him, "I mean... I don't think he sees me that way. He acts the same with me as he does with everyone."

“Sure.” He huffs, leaning against the bartop, just as Wade plunks down in the seat in front of you.

“God, I haven’t been over here in like-,” Wade checks a fake watch, “Fifteen minutes? Feels like longer. Felt like a fucking hour.”

Pivoting back and forth on the stool as he adds, “Is it possible for people to get separation anxiety? Or is that just dogs? Is this how Dogpool feels when I’m gone?”

You just manage to catch the last bit, as Dopinder slips away.

“Exactly the same.”

Tonight, Wade is the first person that sits down in front of you for the game.

A frown, as you peel off your gloves - your barrier, to the outside world.

His own already bare - sliding back-and-forth over his suit-clad thighs. You'd mistake it for nerves, if you weren't so sure Wade had never been nervous in his life.

"What's your story, Wilson?" You ask, "Hope you brought something good."

"Oh, it's a whopper. A real fucking doozy. Apparently, you're not gonna believe it. " His laugh is a little too loud, and your eyes narrow, "But let's give it a whirl, okay?"

There's a flicker, behind the bar. A sideways look towards the bar, where Dopinder's hands cover his face. You don't need to touch him to read the guilt written across his features - the way he almost flinches, under your glare.

You're going to fucking kill him.

The sound of your name brings you back.

“Ready to play?”

Wade's hands rest face-up on the table - an offering. For once in his life he almost looks serious, and it’s enough to bring you back.

A breath - before you align your own. Letting them drop down, skin mapping against skin for the first time.

It floods through you.

The lick of heat that almost feels like a caress. A deep yearn that causes your own heart to twinge, layering with the feeling of need. Desire. Want.

It's familiar. It mirrors something deep inside, something that’s become as much a part of you as flesh and bone.

Oh.

A laugh slips from you, breaking the beat of silence. Relief tinged with disbelief - your smile stretching wide.

“Yeah?” You breathe, softening.

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Thought I was being obvious. But you are pound-cake dense, apparently.”

Hands flipping over, to entwine between yours. Letting that feeling inside him linger, settling warm and comforting over your bare skin.

“But I like that about you.” Another huff of a laugh, “Like all of you, really. Always have.”

It makes your heart ache. In a way that finally feels full, feels right - instead of the near-agony you’ve been bearing for weeks.

Only you could be such an idiot.

thanks for reading! 💖

[purplecoffee13]

Cross The Line*

Summary: “Harry and Y/N have always had a great professional relationship, all based on one rule; a line they drew the first time they met. But when one day that line accidentally blurs, Harry finds that he doesn’t want it to go back to the way it was…”

Wc: 13k

Tropes: Boss!rry x Secretary!Y/N

Warnings: A LOT of back and forth (this is what Katy Perry wrote hot and cold about), arguing, curse words, smut, dirty talk, degradation, light ch0king, dom/sub dynamics, edging, b0ndage, and recording while… yk🤗

A/N: I’m terribly sorry to have been testing your patience so much the second half of this year, here is a long one shot to say I’m sorry🥲 and I appreciate all of you and I hope you are happy and healthy and will get everything you want in the new year xx💘💘

General Masterlist

HEADER = POV change

Harry's relationship with his secretary is completely normal.

At least, he’s always thought it is.

Sure, it may have seemed more friendly than the usual boss/secretary relationship, but that was only because Y/N was special. She was one of the kind. Smart, stealthy, and sneaky if need be. She did everything he asked for, sometimes before he even realized he should ask her, and was always ready to do more.

Of course, she was attractive as well. Shit, attractive may have even been an understatement. Y/N was drop dead gorgeous and Harry was entirely aware of it. Her ambition made her even sexier, and it's one of the reasons he hired her in the first place.

When Y/N walked through his office door that first time three years ago, he couldn't believe his eyes.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, those wide eyes staring back at him as she froze a couple feet away from him. She was quick to regain herself, though—he had to give her that. But she was nervous as she sat down, even though her movements were calm and the tone of her voice stern. He saw the slightest shake of those hands of her.

Because that job interview hadn't been the first time Harry and Y/N came across each other. It was actually a Halloween party at some high end secretive club in New York one month prior. A night that ended with them hooking up in one of the private lounges.

Even back then, when he never thought he'd see her again, he knew that he would never forget that night, nor the way her face scrunched up as she clenched around him, or the sounds that she made as he drove into her.

He could see that she remembered it as well as she sat across from him that day, but Y/N had quickly made it clear that she was serious about pursuing a career in the film industry. She said she could prove what a great secretary she could be for him, as long as they could put that Halloween night behind them and pretend it never happened. She wouldn't make him regret it, she had told him. He took the chance.

And she had been absolutely right.

Three years had passed and Harry was still thankful to himself for hiring Y/N. She was the best around; fiercely loyal as well. Y/N had been offered jobs by other companies, but she turned down every last one of them. Harry liked to think their relationship played a bit of a part in that as well.

They had become friends—if that's what you could call it—over the years. They had a playful dynamic filled with flirty jokes and random phone calls and favors that blurred that line they had drawn so carefully during Y/N's job interview.

No matter what, Y/N would be the first Harry would call, every time. Whether it was bad business news or a drunken phone call, her number was most likely to be at the top of his last calls. And she always answered, even though she didn't have to. It was a special bond, and while they always danced on it—especially Harry—they never crossed that one line.

Not that Harry needed to. As a matter of a fact, he had quite the adventurous love life. With plenty of people on speed dial and a charming smile that could make anyone's panties drop, Harry wasn't short on romantic escapades. The one thing they all had in common, though, was that it'd never last longer than a few days, and they were rarely ever repeated.

The same couldn't be said for Y/N. In fact, Harry had never seen her with anyone outside of her work, and he never heard her mentioning anything about it...

He didn't know why, but somehow, that thought popped up into his head last Friday as they sat in his office with a drink, celebrating the outstanding reviews that critics had given the newest produced film that was set to premiere next week. Before Harry knew it, he was asking about it.

"Why are you rubbing your temples?" He questioned, watching Y/N massage the side of her head with her eyes closed. He was leaned back in his seat, whiskey in hand as he observed the woman across from him.

"Tension headache." She groaned in response. Despite her grumpiness, Harry couldn't help but grin. What could he say? She was cute when she was grumpy.

"We are literally celebrating, Y/N. What could you possibly be so tense about right now?" He teased, and felt his stomach swirl as a smile painted her lips. She might have rolled her eyes, but she still thought he was funny.

"Oh you have no idea." She mumbled, grabbing her glass and leaning back into her chair. She took a big gulp, her face pulling at the strong taste of the liquor. Harry chuckled.

"You should relax more. Maybe get a hot date to take care of some of that stress for you." He suggested jokingly. Y/N scoffed at the insinuation.

Shaking her head, she said: "I get taken care of just fine, thank you very much."

The equally teasing tone in which she responded caught Harry seriously off guard. Her slight grin pressed down on his chest, and despite having started this joking banter himself, he suddenly didn't find the topic very funny anymore.

"When?"

Y/N locked eyes with her boss. “What?”

"You're here 24/7, when do you even have time to hook up with someone?"

"You know there's this thing called weekends." She joked, but the amusement faded when Harry's mouth didn't even quirk upwards in the slightest bit. It fell quiet for a second or two, and just when Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, someone knocked on the office door.

"Come in."

Harry had said, and soon enough Robin, one of the managers walked in, telling them everyone was going to the pub down the street to celebrate, and if they wanted to come along.

Harry didn't even have the chance to reject the offer—he'd rather spend his nights with his secretary—before Y/N agreed to go along. Feeling obligated, Harry reluctantly gave in as well.

He ended up going home quite early that night, not even properly saying goodbye to Y/N like he normally would before leaving, and he couldn't get the image of her wrapped around another man out of his head the entire ride home. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was the fact that it shouldn't, and more importantly, couldn't bother him, which made it even less bearable.

Whichever reason there may have been for it, he decided to drown out his thoughts by inviting one of his old hook-ups to his house. But even as he drove himself into her as she kept screaming his name, he couldn't stop thinking of Y/N. When she had reached her climax and he began to chase his own high—Harry was caught off guard by Y/N's face flashing through his mind, and extremely embarrassed when those images triggered his orgasm.

The next week is awkward, to say the least. It started out Monday, when Harry could barely look Y/N in the eye. She had received the sudden cold shoulder pretty well, but Harry still felt horrible about it. His attitude got less stiff throughout the week, but it was still bad.

By the time Thursday rolls around again, Harry still hasn't had the chance to get that weird feeling out of his system. So when he approaches his office and spots Y/N behind her desk smiling at him, a wave of guilt washes over him.

He curses himself as he sinks into his desk chair, absentmindedly turning on his laptop. What is he doing? Y/N is his assistant. He shouldn't let his protectiveness of her get the best of him. He does not want to lose her in any way.

Harry flinches when there is a knock on his door. He looks up, finding Y/N standing in his doorway. Immediately, he signals for her to come in. She seems a bit nervous as she nears him, and considering she's never been nervous around him, his heart sinks at the idea that the cold shoulder he's been giving her the other night might have affected her way more than he thought.

He just doesn't know how to behave instead.

"You have a meeting in conference room C in five minutes. It's the banker's son who's been proposing his script for the past year. I  know your schedule is tight, especially with the premiere coming up, but I thought you might as well get it over with." She says, putting a stack of papers on the table that Harry can only assume is the script. He nods, quirking up the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you, smart thinking." The praise falls from his lips in a casual manner, and he doesn't miss the way she physically relaxes at the positive reinforcement. She nods at him, and turns back to the door. Right before she is about to leave the office, she turns around again. Harry leans back in his seat, waiting to hear what she'll say.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped last week." She says, and Harry frowns at the apology.

"What?"

"I clearly said something that ticked you off." She explains,her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know we joke around, but I was afraid that maybe I'd accidentally crossed a line—“

"Y/N, stop it." Harry interrupts her, getting up from his seat. Her lips are locked within a second, and she stares at her boss with wide eyes. His stomach twists at the sight of it. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But— if I said something inappropriate then I want to apologize for it." She says, straightening her posture again, biting her bottom lip so he won't see it quiver. As if he doesn't know the way her body works. As if he hasn't known for three years.

Putting his hands inside his pockets, Harry walks around his desk and stands in front of her. A little closer than he needs to, and yet not as close he would like.

"Let me ask you this: How many times have you declined booty calls for me?" He asks, tilting his head a bit. A slight smile appears on Y/N's face, and she pretends to think it over.

"Twenty-seven." Her smile crinkles her eyes, making them even more glassy. Harry quite literally feels his hand itch to touch her face, but he keeps it sternly in his pocket. "I kept track so I could count all the reasons you definitely won't get into heaven."

At that, he lets out a snort. Y/N can't help but chuckle too, and slowly but surely the weirdness dissolves from the room. When the laughter has died down, she speaks up again.

"So... we're good?"

"We're good." Harry smiles at his secretary, and his chest heats up when he spots the faint blush that appears on her cheeks. Jesus Christ, did she become even more beautiful than she was yesterday or was he just too stupid to notice earlier? Probably the latter.

"Well in that case you need to leave because your meeting is like, right now." She reminds him, and he hums in agreement as he gets up from his seat and walks towards the door with Y/N.

"Already gone, love." He winks at her, walking out the door with a lot more confidence in his relationship with Y/N. Maybe everything can go back to normal again. Maybe he was just exaggerating when he couldn't get her out of his head this weekend. Perhaps it was just a glitch, a temporary error in his brain that had come and gone in a flash.

That must've been it, he tells himself as he makes his way to conference room C. He takes a deep breath, musters a polite smile, and opens the door to the room. Harry already knows this guy is going to be wasting his time, but he made a promise to hear him out, so he will.

The guy sitting at the table is the stereotypical spoiled rich son. When John Longwell—a long-time business partner of Harry's— asked him to revise his son's script as a favor, Harry told him he'd do it if he ever found the time. He always hoped John's son would lose interest and forget about the script by the time Harry could find a free space in his agenda, but unfortunately that hadn't been the case.

And although the arc of the story had sounded absolutely horrendous— something about zombies fueled by a brainwashing radio song, which didn't even make sense to Harry because zombies don't have brains—he couldn't back out anymore. So he needs to get it over with, starting now.

Harry loudly shuts the door.

The guy—whose name he can't really remember at the moment—flinches and turns around, a big grin on his face as he gets up from his seat.

"Mr. Styles, it's a pleasure to see you." The man says, extending his hand, which Harry, in turn, takes. He only gives a slight nod before heading over to the other side of the table and sitting down.

"So, where's your script?" Harry asks, eyeing the empty table. The guy looks flustered, opening his mouth to say something, but the opening of the door interrupts that. Harry leans back in his seat when he spots his secretary walk through it, not even eyeing the other guy as she struts over to him and lays the printed out script on the glass table.

"Sorry, you forgot this. It was still on your desk." She says, finally turning to the man to throw him an innocent smile. His sheepish grin satisfies her enough to turn back to her boss and focus all her attention on him. "I also forgot to ask you— do you want to move up lunch today?"

The corner of Harry's mouth tugs up. Over the last three years, the concept of 'moving up lunch' has become a code for 'should I get you out of this early?'. Y/N came up with it a long time ago, and it has stuck ever since.

"Yes, I would very much like that. Thank you, Y/N." He says, and the way a smirk slowly creeps onto her face makes the hairs on his body rise.

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Styles." She gives one final nod before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. Harry would lie if he said he didn't let his eyes fall onto the way her hips moved as she strolled away.

Unfortunately the fun doesn't last long, and with the slam of the door Harry is reminded that he still has to sit through this meeting a little longer. He looks down at the script.

"A Thousand Zombies

By Jason Longwell."

Right, Jason, that was his name.

"Jesus Christ, if that were my secretary I'd have her bent over my desk all day. How do you get any work done?" Jason breathed out, grinning like a stupid fucking schoolboy. Harry quite literally felt the storm cloud that came floating right above his head the second he heard that incompetent loser say those words. His hands balled up into fists at the suggestive comment, knuckles getting whiter by the second.

"Get out." Harry growls. John raises his eyebrows, looking around him as if Harry couldn't have possibly been addressing it to him.

"W— what?" He stumbles.

"I don't do business with insolent idiots. Get out." Harry repeats, getting up from his seat and buttoning his suit jacket. John follows his movements, anger starting to cloud on his face.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He exclaims in a failed attempt to sound intimidating. At least, Harry assumes that's what he's trying to do.

"I called you an idiot. Now, get the hell out of my face before I boot your sorry ass right to the front door." With one brow raised, he waits as John tries to muster a response until he eventually gives up and storms out of the room. Harry throws the script into the trash as he walks out of the conference room half a minute later. Y/N is immediately by his side.

"That was quick, I didn't even have time to think of an emergency." She jokes as they walk back to Harry's office together. He raises a brow.

"Yes you did. What was it this time? Food poisoning?" He guesses, holding the door to his office open once they've reached it. Y/N grins as she walks past him and takes a seat at one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Actually, your car was going to get stolen in about five minutes." She responds, the blush of her cheeks revealing the slight embarrassment of having to voice this excuse out loud. Harry's eyes widen as he walks over to his desk, feeling his assistant watching his every move. He quite likes the feeling.

"No way." He laughs. "You just get more creative by the day."

"What can I say, I'm good at crisis management." She shrugs, crossing her legs and getting into a more comfortable position on the chair. Harry tries his best to not let his eyes float to her legs.

"That you are." He murmurs, the huskier sound of his voice giving a different ambiance to the conversation. As Harry feels the mood switch, he curses himself. Why did he have to ruin it?

Y/N clears her throat. "Anyway— why'd the meeting end early?"

"It ended early because Jason Longwell is a sleazy douchebag." He responds shortly, straightening in his seat in an attempt to gain control of the situation again. He can't let himself slip like this again, and she can't know the real reason he kicked out Jason. But there is no denying the sheer rage that boils his blood when that comment flashes through his memory. He hates that the asshole thought he could just speak about Y/N like that.

"Ooh, what did he say when you kicked him out?" Y/N asks eagerly, still in a playful mood. "You did kick him out right?"

"I don't have time to get into this right now. I need to sign those contracts that were sent in yesterday before I go home." Harry says sternly, avoiding eye contact with Y/N as he speaks, but he still sees the slump in her shoulders at his sudden shift in attitude.

"Right, of course." She immediately returns to the responsible secretary she always is, getting up from her seat. He hears her exit the room, heels clacking against the wooden floor. As soon as the door has shut, Harry throws his head back in frustration.

So much for going back to normal.

Playing into the teasing will only rope him further into that forbidden fantasy, and he clearly won't be able to stop himself from resisting her if he does. But he's the one who started all the playfulness, massively screwing himself over he realizes now. If he shifts his behavior, she's always going to think he's mad at her because of something.  But he's going to have to, because Harry can't go back to normal anymore.

Deciding he needs to clear his head, Harry grabs his coat and heads for the elevators without so much as a word. He pretends not to notice the way people's eyes widen when he walks by, suddenly on their best behavior, and although it used to give him an ego boost back when he started, nowadays he just prefers it if people aren't scared of him.

It turns out to be a particularly nice outside for a winter day in London. Not to get it twisted— it's still freakishly cold. It's just that the sun has replaced the endless rain of this entire month. Harry suppresses a chuckle at the irony of the sun finally being out at the very first moment where he's felt so shitty in a long time.

He doesn't know how long he's outside, so he knows it's not fair to be frustrated when he comes back and Y/N isn't at her desk, but he can't help the slight distress that washes over him at the empty seat.

"It's just a date—"

"Your second date!"

Harry creased brows don't do much to hide his feelings when he turns around to see his secretary with a co-worker. The shy smile on her face—accompanied with that blush on her cheeks she always gets when she's secretly giddy about something—disappears at the sight of her boss looking at her like she just killed a puppy.

"Ha— Mr. Styles." She is quick to catch her almost error. Her wide eyes bore into his, filled with confusion and worry. But Harry's frown doesn't give away much, aside. From the fact that he is obviously annoyed.

"I was looking for you." He states stoically, not even acknowledging the employee that is standing next to her. The woman takes the hint and gives Y/N and Harry a small nod before walking away. As soon as she does, Harry turns around and walks towards his own office. He can hear her footsteps following him inside, and with the inconsistent clacking against the floor he can tell she's having a hard time keeping up with his long strides. Still, he doesn't slow his pace.

"I need the papers for the donations printed out and on my desk. And I'll need you to move the meeting with the director of the romance movie to Tuesday evening."

"Yes, of course." The breathy response falls from Y/N's lips the second he finishes his sentence, and by the time he enters his office, she is long gone to do exactly what he asked. Harry shuts the door a little louder than intending to, accidentally shaking the framed artwork on the wall.

Y/N isn't very talkative for the rest of the day, that usual spark of hers seemingly having dimmed. Harry's chest is heavy, knowing his cold attitude was the catalyst for that, but he keeps it up nonetheless. He can't help himself from falling back into it every time he sees her face.

A date. She's going on a date. A second one at that. He can't believe it. Is this who she referred to when she said she gets taken care of? His stomach churns at the possibility.

He tries not to, but Harry still gets warped into the spiral of overthinking about 'date' Y/N has tonight. So much, in fact, that he almost doesn't notice the time flying by until Y/N knocks on his door at 6PM. Harry spots the coat that hangs over her desk chair, and he realizes the work day is over.

"Everything is done for the day and ready for next week. I also sent the papers about the donations with a courier who owed me a favor, so the documents are signed on both parts and the donations will be officially registered by Monday." She explains, hands behind her back. Her new shy behavior—while quite endearing—is excruciating to see. She had always been comfortable around Harry, until now. Until he had to ruin it for the both of them.

"Thank you." Harry gives her a firm nod.

"No problem." She responds a bit awkwardly. "So... I'm going to clock out for the day."

Y/N has already turned around by them time Harry's voice croaks out a 'no'. She whips her head towards her boss, head tilted as she awaited whatever it was that he was going to say.

"I need those contracts for that romance movie." He says before he can even comprehend his words.

"But you won't be negotiating that deal for another two weeks." Y/N retorts, her tone more stern than usual. He can tell she's tired.

"I don't care. I want them on my desk tonight." He holds his head high, despite knowing damn well what he's doing.

He's stalling. Long enough for... he doesn't know actually. For her to cancel her date? It sounds ridiculous now that he really thinks about it.

"Harry, I have an appointment tonight—"

"I said I don't care. I pay you to do as I ask. This is not something you can argue me on." He grumbles. With how Y/N's jaw is clenched, he can't say the same for her attitude. Without another word, she leaves the office.

Harry's worry begins to grow every minute that passes with Y/N out of sight. But when she returns with a stack of papers in her hand after a bit—seven minutes to be exact—that worry evolves into surprise. Walking over to his desk, she plops the papers on them a bit carelessly before speaking up.

"I had them made on Monday because I like to be a few steps ahead." She elaborates. "Now, if that's all, I'm going home."

Y/N doesn't even say goodbye when she grabs her coat and walks to the elevators. Harry sighs to himself, not knowing how the hell he should handle this. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes he really can't do this anymore. He needs to talk to her, if only just to clear the air.

And so, he gets up from his seat and hurries after his assistant.

He catches her just as she walks into an empty elevator, and he joins just before the doors close. Her knitted brows make it clear that she is not in the mood to talk to him.

"I'm sorry... about the documents." Harry confesses, but she doesn't face him. It stays quiet between them for a bit, until the biting sentence falls from Y/N's lips.

"You said we were good."

His heart cracks at her wobbly voice. He can't believe he made her feel this way. If any other person would've brought her to tears, he would've beaten the shit out of them. He reaches for her arm.

"W— we are." He lies. It's the biggest lie he's ever told her, and she knows it, because she immediately turns around.

"No we're not! I said I was sorry if I did something wrong, and you told me it was okay, and now all of a sudden you're being so... cold. I don't understand—" her eyes become glassy. "I don't understand what I did wrong."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to spout out his apologies, when Y/N's phone starts to ring. It takes them out of their little trance, and Y/N fumbles around her jacket for a bit until she's finally found her phone. He can't see who's calling her, but it can't be an expected call if he has to judge by the expression on her face.

"Marco, why are you—" her eyes widen at whatever the voice on the other side of the line is telling her, and Harry subconsciously finds himself leaning in a bit in the hope to find out what's wrong.

"What?" Y/N breathes. Her voice is small, and it sounds defeated, tired. The elevator dings, signaling they're downstairs, but Y/N doesn't move, so Harry doesn't either. She seems to notice and lets out a huff before storming out of the confined space and pacing around the lobby.

"You said we had a green light! That was months ago, Marco! Did you even—" She growls, clutching at her phone so hard Harry is afraid she's going to break it. "You know what, never mind. Give me his number."

The Marco guy seems to say something that he really shouldn't have said, because with the way Y/N's face twists Harry swears he can see steam coming out of her ears

"I don't care that they're not answering, I'll make them answer. Give me their numbers and then go find them." She orders before ending the call. And although the thought really shouldn't be crossing his mind right now, Harry can't help but notice how attractive Y/N is when she's mad. He shakes off the thought, telling himself that's the last thing he should be paying attention to right now.

Y/N paces around one more time, cursing under her breath, before striding past Harry and pushing the elevator buttons like a maniac.

"What's going on?"

Y/N shakes her head. "N— nothing. Just a little hiccup that could've easily been prevented. I won't be long."

Harry raises a skeptical brow, but she doesn't dare to meet his eye. She's lying through her teeth.

"Y/N—"

"Harry, really, it's nothing. I'm taking care of it." She tries to convince him, but he notices the way her hands are slightly trembling. "I'm sorry I was unprofessional. You're my boss. It's my job to take your orders, not question them."

Wait, no.

That aching feeling fills his stomach. His entire body, for that matter. He doesn't want her to be a silent and compliant assistant. That's not why he hired her. He needs someone to push back, to joke around with. Shit— what has he done?

Harry finds himself speechless as she enters the elevator and pushes the button of the seventh floor; the office. His brain isn't fast enough to think of what to say before the doors shut and the elevator ascends.

His feet stay glued to the ground as he ponders, his mind reeling like a rollercoaster. Frustration fills his body to his every finger tip. Everything has gone wrong, and he has no idea how to make it better.

At least ten minutes must've gone by by the time that a concierge taps Harry on the shoulder to ask him if he's okay. Still a bit wary, he nods before excusing himself and leaving the building.

Everything is going wrong.

Leaning over the desk with her face buried between her arms, Y/N is unable to hold back the tears that glide over her cheeks.

First, her boss gets mad at her, and she has no idea why. Then, just when they seemed to be okay again, he changed his attitude up again. And what does she do instead of letting it go? She starts a fight. And now Marco drops a disastrous bomb in her lap that could entirely ruin the movie premiere on Sunday. And if that wasn't enough—and she really thinks it was—this sudden crisis caused her to cancel her date of tonight.

It wasn't anything special, really. Y/N had met Jamie a few weeks ago, and they went out last week. He was a nice guy, handsome too, and she thought he was perfect for a short lived affair. Besides, her vibrator just couldn't live up to her fantasies. She was human, she needed to get off every now and then too. It was like Y/N had this itch in need of scratching, one she hadn't been able to reach in what felt like years.

But that wasn't going to happen now. In fact, she was risking being fired if she didn't solve this problem as soon as possible.

Damn! She really thought she had kept it all together, despite the extreme business this year. She thought she'd done a good job.

But that was a lie, because if she had done a good job, Marco wouldn't have ever gotten into the position where an artist on the soundtrack could manipulate the contract they signed. Y/N had told Marco to make it airtight, already having been suspicious of the artists' integrity from the moment they became part of the soundtrack. She assumed that they would try something.

'Chain' was an up and coming band known for their indie sound, but Y/N would just describe them as two pricks. Not only had they been subtly demeaning to her when Harry met with them, barely acknowledging her existence, they were arrogant as well. They came in expecting a lot more money than Harry and the rest of the company were willing to give them. It was absurd that they expected such a big number, but their cocky attitude didn't fade throughout the meeting.

It was truly a favor to the director, why Harry worked so hard to compromise with Chain. The director had been so passionate about the movie, and he had really wanted the song. If one thing was important to Harry, it's that there went passion onto the projects he produced and invested in. So, he decided to help, and eventually managed to struck a deal with the singers. It was still way above the pay grade they should've got—in Y/N's opinion—but they agreed.

Having seen first hand how greedy those two were, she had told Marco—the guy who handled all the legal documents—to make that contract airtight. She demanded to look it over, but because of her busy schedule, she let Marco have another lawyer look at it before sending the contract.

And now, because of a lazy mistake Chain's lawyer found, they are demanding more money or they'll waive their rights to the music. Something which would be absolutely detrimental because the entire climax of the movie, the cinematography and timing are all tuned to the song.

If she doesn't find a way to solve this problem, this entire premiere could fall apart, and it would all be her fault. She gave the green light to Harry, who gave it to the director. It's all her fault. 

She should've fucking read that contract herself, then this would've never happened.

Between Harry being mad at her, the fact that she was in her luteal phase, and this sudden disaster, the tears began streaming down her face, and the soft crying only turned into full on sobs the more she tries to calm herself down.

She allows herself the mental breakdown, but when she begins to regain control of her breath again after a few minutes, Y/N decides that it's enough. She has a job to get done, and no one was going to swoop in and save her.

So, she starts making call after call, ringing everyone in the immediate vicinity of the two arrogant bastards. It's crucial she reaches them before the night is over. Only forty minutes have passed by the time she is on the seventh person, but it feels like an eternity nonetheless.

She flinches when, while trying to reach Chain's tour manager, the elevator door dings and a shadow nears. Her tense shoulders sink a little bit at the sight of Harry, glad it's not some creep. Her brows crease as she watches him walk towards her. He's carrying a couple of bags with... is that food? It sure smells like it.

When the call goes to voicemail—for the third time—Y/N puts down the phone and gets up from her seat, hurrying over to her boss and stopping him before he could reach her desk.

"What are you doing here?!" She asks, blocking his way. He lifts the bags, a subtle, apologetic smile on his face.

"I brought food—" He looks up at her, and his eyes darken as soon as he takes in her face. "Have you been crying?"

Y/N raises her hands to her face, quickly glancing at the ground while she wipes her cheeks before meeting his eyes again. Harry puts the bags down, and it feels like her heart skips a beat or two when his thumbs stroke the skin under both her eyes. He leaves his hand around her face, cupping her jaw while he stares at her with such a piercing pain in his eyes that it makes Y/N's eyes water altogether again.

"What's wrong?" His voice is soft, and the feel of his big, warm hands holding her is comforting her in a way she hasn't experienced in a quite some time. Y/N only focused on his chest, afraid that the welled up water in her eyes will spill out again the second she looks at her boss. She told herself the crying was over, so why wasn't she able to control herself?

A few seconds pass, and silence runs between the thick air that makes it nearly impossible to breathe normally. Then, Y/N feels the slight pressure of Harry's hands, inching her head upwards. Automatically, her gaze flicks to that of her boss, and when she sees the worry on his face, a tear escapes her eye. His thumb catches it before it has the chance to roll down all the way down her cheek.

"I messed up." She only says, closing her eyes in shame. Harry says nothing, only letting out a sigh as he continues to caress her cheek.

Suddenly, the phone rings. Y/N reluctantly backs away from Harry's touch, and runs over to her desk to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" She says, her voice laced with such desperation that she internally cringes at it.

"Y/N? It's Marco. I found them, they're at a studio just outside the city."

She hums, grabbing a pen. "Give me the address."

"No, I'm going. This is my mess, Y/N, I'm not going to let you clean it up." Marco croaks from the other side of the line, and Y/N feels his voice tug at her heartstrings.

"Marco, listen to me. This is as much my fault as it is yours. I should've read the damn thing and notice the mistake." She replies, leaning over her desk to grab her coat.

"Y/N, I'll take care of it, okay? I found a fault in their loophole, they're stuck. Let me handle this. You just go home and enjoy what's left of your evening I ruined—" Marco tells her. "Wait, didn't you have a date tonight? Oh my god, did I ruin your date?"

"I did... but it's alright. It probably wouldn't have worked out with him anyway." Y/N chuckled awkwardly and glanced towards Harry, who looked weirdly annoyed at what she said.

"I'm so sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Marco shares the desperate plea.

"You can make it up to me by giving me the address of the studio." Y/N tells him cheekily.

"Y/N..." he warns.

"What? I promise I'm going home. It's just so I know where you are." She lies. Y/N is a good liar, except in front of Harry. Having a tendency to get nervous, she always betrays herself. She's lucky that this is a phone call, otherwise Marco would've known she wasn't planning on going home at all.

Hesitantly, he gives her the address, which she immediately writes down on her hand.

"Okay, thank you Marco. Good luck." She says, hanging up the phone with a lot more confidence than ten minutes ago. She can feel Harry staring her down as she puts on her coat, clearly waiting for an explanation for this whiplash-like behavior.

"I really have to go."

Harry shrugs. "I'll give you a ride. You can explain everything to me on the way to your house."

Y/N shakes her head, walking towards her boss. "No, really, you don't have to."

"Yes I do." Harry argues.

"You really don't."

"Do you have a problem with me bringing you home, Y/N?" He asks as if he's dumb, as if he doesn't know she's secretly trying to go to that studio.

"No!" She is quick to protest.

"Or does it have anything to do with the address of that mysterious studio you've written on your hand?" He teases, and Y/N clenches her jaw in frustration.

"I just— I need to make sure it's handled." She sputters. Harry shrugs.

"From what I heard it's being handled just fine." He points out. "You've got to learn to let things go sometimes, Y/N."

She shakes her head, looking the floor. "I can't. Not with this."

Harry lowers his head, trying to get on the same eye-level as her and searching for her eyes. "Why not?"

"I told you; I messed up." Her voice quivers as she tells Harry the truth. "There was a mistake in the contract with Chain. Somehow they found a loophole, and now they want more money or they'll waive the rights to their song."

"What?!" Harry growls, exactly like Y/N anticipated he'd react. God, he's going to fire her any moment.

"It's my fault. It was a reference mistake I could've easily spotted if I had taken the time to revise it." She admits, feeling extremely shameful of her lazy actions.

"What are you talking about? This is the legal team's fault, they should've seen that damned mistake! It's not in your job description to revise a contract, it's not your responsibility. It's not your fault, Y/N." He explains. She sucks in a breath, his words hitting her harder than she expected. Heart aching, the one sentence rings in her head.

It's not your fault.

That couldn't be true, could it? She was responsible for this deal, and for Harry. She should've seen this coming, even though she couldn't have possibly known. Did she not always pride herself in having this sixth sense, in being ahead of everyone else? What was she without that? What was she if not the best at the one thing that made her special, that set her apart from the crowd. What was she worth without that invincibility?

"You revise every contract, don't you?"

Her eyes flick towards her boss. She doesn't say anything, but the answer is hidden in her pupils. And it seems Harry can read them like an open book. "How long have you been doing that?"

"Two years." Y/N stammers, her arms crossed as if it will keep her body from revealing whatever her mouth won't. Harry just lets out a breathy chuckle before pulling her into his arms, taking her into a sweet embrace. With his chin leaning on her head, Y/N takes the opportunity to bury her face in his chest, trying not to bask too much in the heavenly scent of his cologne.

"Remind me to give you a raise." He jokes in a soft whisper, earning a sniff of laughter from Y/N.

For a while it seems like everything that tore her down, including what went down between her and Harry, didn't exist anymore. There was just him and her, their embrace and a distant ticking clock, the only indicator of time passing. Yet it felt like the world stopped, or slowed down at least, being in Harry's arms like that. And suddenly, that itch that she hadn't been able to scratch in so long, it felt like it was soothed by a stroking hand instead, and in a way it fulfilled her. It just so happened to be a way she did not expect.

The initial shock at the realization—this puzzle piece that suddenly clicked—made Y/N back away. She clears her throat, fiddling with her hands.

"They're supposed to be at this studio right outside the city. It's only twenty minutes away by car. I just need to be sure." She announces. Harry grabs the bags of food he put down before placing his hand on her lower back and guiding the both of them back to the elevator.

"We'll take my car." He states, and although Y/N can tell by his tone that Harry expects there to be no talking back, but she just can't help herself.

"Harry, I told you I can take a cab." She suggests as they wait for the elevator door to open. Harry doesn't respond as he guides them both into the small space and pushes the button for the ground floor. When the door closes, he turns to her, looking down at her with such an intimidating stare that Y/N feels like she's shrinking.

"And I told you: we're taking my car." He says sternly, his low voice twisting her stomach in an interesting way. When Y/N goes to open her mouth again, Harry lays his finger on her lips. He hums in disapproval, shaking his head.

"I was being clear, right?" He asks rhetorically. His gaze sweeps over her mouth before settling on her eyes again. Not daring to speak another word, let alone breathe, Y/N only nods in response.

"Good." Harry responds, a cocky smirk framing his face as he strolls out of the elevator, leaving Y/N breathless and in a slight trance. Blinking a few times, she comes back to her sense and hurries after her boss.

Richard has always been a master at reading people, and this time is no exception. The second he began driving, he raised the partition, leaving Harry and Y/N with some privacy.

Harry really has a knack for hiring the right people.

The first few minutes of the car ride are silent, and Harry spends it observing Y/N as she picked at her nail beds, frantically looking at of the window as if it would make the car move faster. She has so much tension inside that little body of hers; she is clearly in need of a distraction.

"I think I'm jealous."

Y/N's head whips to him, brows raised at the sudden confession. Her body turns with her, knees now in Harry's direction as she leans back into the seat, getting comfortable as she lays close attention.

"Of me?" She asks, utterly confused. She seems very lost, not really connecting the dots. Harry doesn't blame her; that confession was quite out of the blue.

"Of whoever gets to take care of you."

Pure silence. Harry swears he could hear a pin drop. Y/N stares at him like a deer in headlights, probably having no idea what to say or do or think. She gulps.

"What?" Her voice is so soft that he almost doesn't hear her, but since all his focus is on her, he doesn't miss it. Letting out a breath, he leans forward, placing a hand on her thigh. His face inches closer and closer until their mouths are mere inches away from each other. Checking for her reaction with every small movement, he can't help but notice how she doesn't stray away from him. In fact, she leans in, causing their lips to brush against each other.

"The idea of another man touching you, having you, it makes my fucking blood boil." He says, voice hoarse. Her eyes frantically search every last inch of his face, looking for something she seemingly can't find. Perhaps she's attempting to find the usual playfulness that always accompanies any conversation that blurs that line between them. In that case, she could keep looking forever and ever, because he is dead serious. Fuck how it used to be and fuck whatever's right or wrong.

And most of all, fuck that line, because he's crossing it.

Harry closes the small gap between them, trying to suppress the moan that threatens to work up his throat at the sole feeling of her lips against his. What a fucking idiot he was for ever agreeing to forget about that Halloween night. Not that he ever truly did forget about it. Besides her obvious competencies, hiring Y/N was a way of keeping her where he seemed to like her best from the moment they met; close to him.

With that thought in mind, he wraps his hand around her face and pulls her closer. She complies, clicking her seatbelt free to move further towards Harry when he slips his tongue inside.

Their mouths move against each other like it's both the first time and the hundredth time they've done this. So familiar and yet it's like nothing he ever felt before. A sensation so different from three years ago, one so heavy and laced with a detail his brain can't quite seem to grasp. Deep down, he knows what it is, he just can't quite lay his finger on it.

But his body can, and it does, and so does Y/N's, because her grinding against him is exactly what he needs. His hand sneaks around her neck, lips curling into a smile at the familiarity of the curves of her neck and the identical moan that falls from her lips just as it did three years ago.

Harry groans when the car suddenly stops and Y/N falls forward a little bit, the friction against his trousers being a bit too much to bear at the moment. Slowly, the partition lowers, and without so much looking at them through the mirror, Richard speaks up.

"We've arrived."

Wrong. Harry clearly hasn't.

Before Harry can catch his breath, Y/N can get off his lap, and either one can even answer, the partition rises again. Immediately, Y/N throws her face into Harry's neck.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." She wheezes out in pure, utter shame. Harry shakes his head, a faint grin on his face. He would have been laughing his ass off if he wasn't so painfully hard right now. Instead, he only pats Y/N's back, telling her it's fine. She groans and opens the car door.

"No it's not! God, I will never be able to look him in the eye again!" She says, punching the bridge of her nose. Harry shuts the door and grabs Y/N's waist, pulling her towards him. She stumbles into his chest. He lifts her face with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him.

"You're going to have to, because I don't want to fire him." He jokes, and Y/N bites her lip to keep her smile from growing too wide. Not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction that he made her laugh, she looks to the side, but her face expression falls quickly.

"This is not my apartment." She notes, looking at the huge building next to her. "This is yours."

Harry nods.

"I can't be at your apartment, I have to—" Y/N stops herself before she can say more. But Harry already knew what she was going to say. Playfully, he raises a brow.

"You have to... what?"

"To... I have to—"

"Sneak out to that studio?" He finishes her sentence, and her eyes widen. She tries to regain herself but her cheeks are flushed and there is nothing she can do anymore. He's got her. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

With that, he places a hand on her lower back and guides her towards his building. She stumbles a bit, but eventually catches onto the pace. But her body language is apprehensive, looking back at the road where Richard is standing. Or well, was standing. Harry ordered him to drive away as soon as they got out of the car.

Still, she turns around in a quick motion, trying to get to a cab. Harry's arm catches her, however, and he pulls her back against his chest. Along with his other hand, he turns her around, catching sight of her big eyes boring into his.

"Don't try me." He speaks slowly, dipping his head down until he finds himself inches away from Y/N. "You know what happens if you try me."

His voice is lower than before, having flipped a switch now that her mouth has been on his. He got a taste for the first time in years, he wasn't going to let her get away now. Y/N's breath hitches, eyes flicking down to his mouth.

Knowing he's got her right where he wants her, Harry pulls back and strolls toward the entrance of his apartment building. Soon enough, he hears those heels behind him and he smirks.

It's silent when they step in the elevator, and for the first few seconds, as Harry leans agains't the wall and observes his secretary, it stays that way. She eyes him a couple of times, her ears getting redder.

"What?" She breathes out, looking down at her body like there must be something wrong if he's looking at her for so long. He simply shrugs.

"Nothing. Just admiring you."

At that, Y/N vigorously shakes her head and crosses her arms. A soft scoff leaves her mouth, one she didn't think Harry would hear, but he did. He takes a few steps towards Y/N, inching her against the wall.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" He asks sincerely, searching for her eyes. When she finally looks up at him, the nervous smile on her face fades a bit.

Harry doesn't like that look on her face. Needing to fix it, he leans forward and plants his lips on hers again, grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before her arms are wrapped around his neck and their bodies are impossibly close to each other again.

Tongues delving deeper into each other's mouth, Harry feels himself floating on some sort of feeling. Despite not being able to define it, he is absolutely positive that he doesn't ever want it to stop. And since kissing Y/N causes this specific feeling, the only feasible option is to never stop kissing her. It's the best plan he's had in ages.

It doesn't take long before the situation gets heated, much like it did before, and Harry's hands trail to Y/N's hips to pull her against him. Desperate for any sort of relief, Harry's hips automatically start to move, and Y/N immediately responds. His body feels like it's on fire, and he tries not to let out any sounds as his strained cock rubs against his tight pants.

Harry takes his lips off Y/N's mouth, peppering kisses to her jaw instead. Slowly, he works his way towards her ear, where he stops to whisper in her ear.

"I'm going to remind you how fucking beautiful you are." The hot breath that left his mouth had her shuddering against him, a slight whine escaping her lips. As he leaves sloppy kisses on Y/N's neck, Harry's free hand slowly travels under her shirt, finding her bra.

She gasps softly when his hand starts to massage her breast, the sensitivity of both spots leaving her hot and bothered under Harry. Fuck, she is so fucking stunning, how did she not see it herself?

Suddenly, the elevator stops, and the door opened. Taking a step back, Harry only winks at Y/N before he turns around and strolls out as if it's a casual Friday. As if he doesn't have his secretary, whom he left high and dry, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

"Would you like something to drink?" He asks when they enter his home, Harry immediately going into the kitchen.

"Absinthe." Y/N breathes out, leaning over the kitchen island. Harry peeks inside his fridge.

"I only have white wine."

Y/N shrugs. "I'm sure it'll have the same effect if I just keep drinking."

Harry chuckles, grabbing the bottle of wine and placing it on the counter. He walks to a cabinet and takes two wine glasses out of it. Placing one in front of Y/N and the other in front of himself, he opens the bottle and starts pouring, not stopping until the glasses are halfway full. Y/N laughs at the ridiculously full wine glass that he pushes her way, but takes it gladly. He doesn't miss the way her breasts nearly spill out of her top as she leans forward a bit further than intended to in order to grab the glass.

"To the unexpected." She says it like it's a dare. Amused, Harry decides to entertain it, and nods his head.

"To the unexpected."

They raise the glasses before both taking a long sip. Y/N rests her arms on the table, giving a perfect view of her tits right in Harry's frame. She smirks when his eyes accidentally fall on it, and Harry's stomach swirls with excitement. She's trying to play.

"Crazy, how fast life can change, isn't it?" She asks rhetorically, and Harry just hums, waiting patiently for her to reveal what she's trying to do. "I mean, I got up today thinking I'd end the day in another man's bed."

There it is.

She's always been smart, and she knows how to push Harry's buttons. Though his fingers grip the kitchen counter tightly, so much that his knuckles turn white, Harry keeps the corners of his mouth lifted.

"And now you're here." He says, head tilting just a bit. She hums in agreement, taking another sip from her wine.

"Yeah, but just crazy to think that I went into the day thinking I'd hook up with someone else." She tells it so innocently, as if she's mostly talking to herself. Harry's jaw clenches as he stalks around the kitchen island and nears Y/N.

"But you're not, though." Harry notes, falling right into the trap. He knows what she's trying to do but he just can't help himself. He doesn't like the idea of her being with another man. He waits for her answer, hearing his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"I know, but I could have—"

Before the sentence has entirely left Y/N's mouth, Harry's hand flies to her neck. The amused look on Y/N's face tells him enough, but he doesn't care.

"You're not. You're in my bed tonight, and any night after that as far as I'm concerned, so I don't want to hear another fucking word about it."

Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she stares up at him. "You really are jealous."

The corner of his mouth tilts upwards, "And you've gotten feisty over the years."

Y/N bites her bottom lip, humming in agreement to his observation. Harry lets out a soft chuckle, tightening the grip on her neck. Y/N gasps in surprise.

"But do you still like to be put in your place?" He asks, inching his face close to hers. The answer is written in her eyes, and yet Y/N doesn't respond. When it's clear that she won't anytime soon, Harry's free hand sneaks around the waist of her pants. She shivers at the touch.

"Well? Do you?" He repeats himself, and slowly but surely, Y/N nods her head. Harry lets out a disapproving noise. "That's not a proper answer."

Closing her eyes, Y/N lets out a deep breath. "Yes, I like to be put in my place."

"That's what I thought." Harry laughs, taking his hands off of her entirely. She frowns, but her eyes widen when he barks out a demand. "Take off your clothes."

He watches carefully as she follows his orders, and she clearly takes her time stripping down to her underwear. When she has, she looks to him for some sign of approval, but Harry just raises his brows. His hands are sunk into his pockets as Y/N lets out a little breath and takes off her bra and panties.

His eyes trail down her body, his cock hurting at the sight of her. God, she's beautiful. He feels like an absolute idiot for not having fought for her earlier, but he reminds himself that he can't change the past and that she is here now, stark naked in his kitchen. A grin spread across his face.

"Do you remember how you addressed me all those years ago?" He asks. It takes a few seconds before Y/N answers, but she gives him a firm nod.

"I called you sir."

Harry nods. "Rules haven't changed. Now, get on the counter."

Her eyes flick to the marble countertop, shock flashing through her eyes. "But Har—"

His right brow lifts ever so slightly. Catching the hint, Y/N stops herself before she can finish the sentence and hoists herself on to the cold countertop. It must not be very pleasant to lay your naked body on that freezing surface, but it was an uncomfortable temporary obstacle. The results would be great, and in about thirty seconds, she'd forget all about that cold touch against her skin.

Harry pulls out one of the bar stools and sat directly in front of Y/N. Spreading her legs apart, he catches sight of that perfect pussy he has been waiting three years to taste again. Like a starved man sat in front of a feast, the urge to dive right in is almost too strong to bear. But before he has her writhing under him, he wants to make her shiver.

"Can't believe it took us so long to get here." Harry hums, tracing his fingers up her thigh, carefully observing the way Y/N tries to control her breathing. Her fists are balled up into curls, attempting to send her concentration to anything else than Harry. He tries not to let his smugness show too much, but he has to say he likes seeing her struggle a bit. A bit of payback for trying to toy with him just now.

"You've always been stubborn." Y/N jokes, a gasp strangling out of her when Harry's fingers ghost over her clit. He chuckles, the tone of his voice so low that it could almost be considered evil.

"If I remember correctly, you're the one who wanted to forget about that Halloween night." He notes. Y/N hums.

"I also made the condition to act professionally, but we didn't do that either." Her eyes gaze into his, catching the fond smile with which he stares at her. A faint blush erupts on her cheeks.

"You drew the line." Harry retorted, and Y/N scoffed.

"You crossed it about a hundred times." She argues in response. He only hums, that cocky smirk on his face.

"I did, and consider this hundredth and first time to be the last, because I'm not getting behind that line again."

Y/N has never been so turned on her in her entire life. Harry’s words are the epitome of determination, and the way his fingers slip inside her so easily the second he finishes his sentence only solidifies that notion. The gasp that leaves her mouth is cut short and evolves into a low moan as Harry’s lips latch onto her clit.

Sensitive would be an understatement for her current state. She is aching, and the way Harry is ravishing her almost hurt. But any pain dwells in comparison to her desire she was overcome with at the situation she currently finds herself in. She is on Harry's kitchen counter, legs spread wide open and letting him do all the things that slipped into her dreams over the past three years.

Harry sucks in all the ways that made her squirm, moving his fingers with such ease that made it seem like he has fingered her a thousand times already. As if he knows her like the back of his hand, as if he knows all her secrets, even ones she doesn't know herself.

Y/N's hand buries itself in Harry's hair when he begins to kitten lick her clit, and she feels that inevitable climax inching closer and closer. She wonders how she had been able to keep herself composed for so long, because the high that creeps up on her feels like it was long overdue.

Unfortunately, the sensation comes to a grinding halt when Harry backs away from Y/N. Her head shoots up, and finds him leaning over her body, wearing boyish half-smile that is now glimmering with her juices.

Wrapping one arm around her waist and the other one under her legs, he picks her up bridal style. She holds onto his shoulders, burying her face into his neck as he carried her to his bedroom. When she begins unbuttoning his shirt, he throws her on his bed. She lets out a soft yelp, bouncing onto the bed.

"So greedy..." Harry tuts in disapproval, but Y/N doesn't quite care. She wants him, bad, and now that she's had a preview of what's to come she doesn't want to wait any longer. She needs him and she needs that orgasm.

She pulls him closer by his pants and starts to unbuckle his belt. "You're taking too long."

Y/N is about halfway done when Harry's firm hand wraps around her neck and pulls her closer to his face. Inching down, he growls: "You'll take what I give you."

"Then give me something." She spits back, and Harry's eyes turn five shades darker at her invitation to a challenge. He slowly leans back, Y/N watching his every movement in anticipation.

"On your stomach."

Y/N stomach swirls at the command, and she obeys as quick as she can. It stays silent for a little bit, and she awaits his further actions eagerly.

"Hands behind your back."

Again, she does what he says. Y/N doesn't dare to turn her head as she hears Harry walking around his room. When she feels a silky material around her wrists, she knows enough. He's tying her up.

Knowing better than to do otherwise, Y/N keeps her mouth shuts as Harry makes an impenetrable knot with his tie. She moves her wrists, assessing how tight it really is, and gets interrupted by a punishing slap on her ass. The sting remains for a couple of seconds, and she is sure there is now a red print the size of Harry's hand on her right cheek.

"Ass up." He barks out his final order, no doubt smirking as she changes her position, slightly struggling now that her arms are of no use.

Y/N bites her lip in anticipation when Harry's hand grabs onto her hips, steadying himself behind her. She slightly flinches forward when the tip of his cock teases her entrance, and attempts to speed up the process by leaning backwards a bit. She's rewarded with another slap on her ass.

But then Harry finally sinks in, and that dreadful itch that plagued Y/N for such a long time is finally scratched, over and over again as he begins to pound into her with long, slow strokes.

"Fucking hell..." Harry murmurs, his cock suctioning into Y/N's tight, clenching pussy. He is so big, and it bruises her in all the right ways.

"Oh baby... thaaat's it." He groans when Y/N begins to bounce back on his cock, aiming to get it even deeper inside of her. She is ruthless in her movements, groaning at the overwhelming sensations. When Harry gropes her ass— and his nails bite into her skin—she loses control.

Burying her face into the mattress, Y/N screams as she reaches her peak. The sound of Harry's moans at her pussy convulsing around his cock only strengthens her orgasm. Her mind goes entirely blank as the shattering release ripples through her like an earthquake. The only thing she can think of is Harry's name, and it's the only thing she cries out as the dizzying explosion settles all over her body.

"You really are desperate, aren't you?" Harry sneers as he pulls his cock out of Y/N, letting go of her hips. She nearly falls over, her tied up hands making it difficult to catch herself. This orgasm was so intense, she could feel the three years of pent up tension as it washed over her. Her cheeks are burning red and her teary eyes makes her vision somewhat blurry.

Y/N is thrown off when Harry suddenly turns her around and she finds herself lying on her back. The way he towers over her would have been intimidating had it not been extremely hot.

"Came on my cock so fast..." he mumbles cockily, corner of his mouth pulled up like the arrogant bastard he is. "Such a slut for it."

Y/N wants to give him some snappy comeback, but her brain is still fried from the orgasm and she's always liked to be degraded in bed, so she decides to only glare at Harry while he speaks. He catches it, and his grin only widens.

"You know it's true, baby." He tells her, bringing your legs over each of his shoulders. That deviant smirk is the last thing Y/N sees before her eyes roll into the back of her head at the feeling of Harry's cock stretching her out again.

He leans forward, almost folding her in two, and reaches deeper. He stays there for a few seconds—as if he is catching his breath—then slowly backs out of her before slamming right back in. Y/N lets out a screech that, if it hadn't been for the desperation laced in its tone, would've sounded like someone was trying to murder her.

Trying to keep her own moans at a minimum, Y/N closes her eyes and listens to the harsh slaps of Harry's skin against hers, and the groans that escape his mouth with each thrust. The strength behind each movement makes her clench around Harry, who in turn hisses her name as if it were a curse word. It only causes her to clench more. 

"Fuck, such a pretty little whore." Harry praises as he drives into her. Y/N can only whine, her tits bouncing uncontrollably at the impact of his motions. She must look fucking helpless. Opening her eyes, she catches the way Harry looks at her; like she's a dream. Like she's his dream.

"My pretty little whore." He growls, leaning back and holding one of her legs with his arm while the other reaches for her breasts.

"Yes..." Y/N breathes as he begins squeezing her breasts, getting lost in the sensations of him. Somehow it feels like Harry is everywhere. As if he has latched onto a part of her soul and she feels him coming to claim that every time his cock sinks into her.

"Such a tight fucking fit." He groans, taking her nipple between his fingers. "You should see how perfectly your pussy sucks in every inch of my cock..."

Y/N bites her lip as Harry talks, trying not too get too overwhelmed by the filthy things he's telling her as he plunges in and out of her. Her eyes catch the flex of his muscles that occur with every thrust, and she wonders how she got a man so perfect to fuck her stupid like this.

"Should record it... make a little video for just the two of us. What do you think?"

Oh my god.

"Don't you want to see how perfect we fit together?" He taunts, thrusting his hips harsher than before, hitting a spot that had been untouched for quite a while now. Y/N's face scrunches up.

"F—fuck! Yes, yes..." She responds when Harry stills inside of her to await an answer. He chuckles at the apparent hurry in her voice and reaches for—what Y/N assumes to be—his phone, on the bed. His motions are slow and soft, determined to keep Y/N satisfied at least a bit while he logs into his phone and searches for the camera app. She notices the start of his recording by the sudden change of pace and force of his movements.

His camera is pointed right at her pussy as he begins thrusting deep inside of her, and Y/N screams out Harry's name. The concentration on his face as he captures how she takes him proves too much to bear, and she shuts her eyes tightly, head flopping to the side.

She can hear his ragged breathing over all the other sounds that their bodies are making. The small grunts he makes in an effort not to moan too loudly is all she can focus on, and the tension in her belly grows exponentially with each vibrations of his voice that reaches her ears.

Harry slows his pace, putting more emphasis on the impact of his moves. It allows him to bring his free hand down to touch Y/N's clit. Her legs begin to shake the second he does.

"Are you gonna come again for me? I'm so close, baby. I can tell you are too." The softness in the delivery of his words have Y/N's ovaries rattle. She can only nod, a whine that was an attempt at a 'yes' falling from her rosy lips. Harry grins, his eyes flicking from his phone to her face. Everything feels so hazy, much like a daydream.

"Please don't stop." She squeals in such a high pitch that surprises even herself. Y/N had no idea she could go that high. Harry's bringing out an entirely new side of her.

"I'll never stop, baby." Harry rasps, pressing down on her clit in such a way that Y/N becomes cross-eyed for a second. Her nails grip into the bedsheets, the second release rippling through her like a hurricane. She never quite understood the word bliss, until now. This must be it; this feeling of... pure ecstasy.

Like a blank canvas splattered on with all the bright colors that exist in the world; fresh and exciting and psychedelic in a way. Impossible to define yet such a specific feeling. Y/N let all of it tingle from her head down to her toes, wanting to remember it forever.

The continuous pounding Y/N through her orgasm comes to a grinding halt when Harry reaches his own, pulling out just in time for his sperm to coat her puffy clit and swollen tits. His camera is focused on her frame, recording every spurt that paints her. She's the canvas, he's the colors, Y/N realizes. Harry is her definition of bliss.

The words shared between the two are scarce as Harry unties Y/N's hands, picks her up and carries her to the bathroom to clean her up. But the smiles on their faces says enough, both knowing what they feel is rare, and beautiful. Y/N assesses Harry's face, concluding that the soft edges of it makes him look like a proper angel.

When he's dressed her in one of his shirts, he takes her back to the bedroom, where he pulls her against his frame. Y/N wraps one leg around his torso, hugging him from the side with her head buried into his neck. The way his chest rises and lowers fills her with pure ease, and she leaves a few soft kisses in his neck as a silent thank you. Harry only hums in satisfaction, his arm only tightening around you, as if he's afraid you might let go.

"I'm never gonna let you go now." You tell him before you can even fully comprehend your words. Your heart starts racing, afraid that might've been too soon to say.

"Promise?"

Your racing heart is now melting as you turn your head and see Harry holding up his pinky. You are quick to interlock it with your own.

"Promise." You say with a smile.

General taglist: @mema10

[tofics]

Comfort Has A Name

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: For you, comfort has a name: Joel Miller.

Word count: ~1.1k words

Tags/Warnings: fluff, freezing your ass off, soft!Joel, jokes about saggy balls in hot weather

A/N: Look at that, I actually wrote something. I'm literally drowning in uni work atm so I have no idea when I'll get back to my other fics, but I'm too overwhelmed with my task list tonight so naturally I had to procrastinate and think about a comforting Joel situation. This is literally no more than a drabble, but maybe it can provide some comfort for you too 🥲

Tough and gruff as he may be, Joel Miller is still your comfort person.

Occasionally, people will ask you how the hell you deal with him on a daily basis, and you never know what to reply. Where do you get the patience?

You're not a saint, by no means. Your patience does not exceed the normal amount, but you've never found Joel testing it.

It's more the opposite, really.

Where other people complain that he grinds their gears, you think of him as the drop of oil that smoothes out the kink in your own system.

Like that day him and you got surprised by a thunderstorm and had to take shelter in an abandoned building. Nothing about the complex provided a sense of comfort; bare and crumbling walls, dust and rubble-coated floors, and more broken windows than intact ones to show for. It was a miserable night. You were freezing, drenched from the downpour the two of you had gotten caught in, and the wind wasn't helping either, howling through the cracks and holes in the ceiling and walls like a wailing ghost.

Joel and you had taken cover in one corner of the building. In the dim twilight of the early night, your two cowering figures could've easily passed as two more large pieces of rubble to the untrained eye. Your soaked clothes lay strewn around, hastily discarded and exchanged for dry clothes from your backpacks in an attempt to not lose more body heat than necessary. (Joel hadn't looked, of course, and neither had you. Both of you had turned their backs to each other as you'd quickly stripped off your clothes, as quickly as the soaked garments would allow.) Still, your teeth were chattering relentlessly, adding a rhythmic element to the white noise provided by the downpour outside.

You reached for your backpack to retrieve your sleeping bag, hoping to wrap it around you like a blanket for extra warmth, but you noticed the mishap as soon as your fingers found the side compartment of your bag. The flap hung loose, and your sleeping bag underneath it was drenched.

"Fuck." You muttered under your breath.

The flap must've had come loose sometime during your sprint through the rain, which left your sleeping bag drenched and you without a plan to warm up. With a sigh, you pulled the bunched up material from its tiny compartment and rolled it out over the floor next to your drenched clothes. You were doubtful any of it was going to be dry by morning, but the chances were still higher than if you kept it all bunched up in your backpack.

You'd slept on solid ground enough to know how cold and unwelcoming any stone surface could be, but that night, you truly understood whoever had coined the term 'stone cold'. The hard concrete against your back was drawing out more heat from your limbs than you could conjure, despite your best efforts. You had curled yourself into a ball, knees tucked tightly against your arms which were crossed over your chest. Your hands, formed into tight fists, were buried in your armpits, but it wasn't helping. Frost was settling in your every limb, slowly working its way from the tips of your extremities all the way to the core of your bones.

That's what you got for getting caught in the rain in early November.

"Hey." Joel's voice grumbled next to you, barely distinguishable over the rain splattering outside. You shifted your head and squinted at him through the dark.

He too was curled up into a human ball, but he'd extended an arm to you as if inviting you for a side-hug.

"C'mon," he said and beckoned you over with a flick of his hand.

You didn't need to be told twice. With your backpack in tow, you scooted over to him, dragging both your belongings and your butt over the dusty ice-cold floor.

"Whoa." You breathed out in surprise as you tucked yourself against Joel's side. His arm came down around you instantly, locking you in place and holding you closer to him than you might've allowed yourself. Heat radiated from his center like he secretly harbored a little white dwarf in his abdomen.

Before you could even think about what you were doing, you pushed yourself into Joel's side as much as physically possible. Your arms snaked around his waist and just barely touched on the other side, while your head came to rest below his chin on his chest, your legs all jumbled up into a big knot drawn as close to yourself as possible. It wasn't really a comfortable position, and yet it was as comfortable as you were ever gonna get.

"Are you an oven or something? How the hell are you so hot?"

Joel snorted. You could feel the low rumble of laughter vibrate in his chest that followed. "Guess that's genetics for 'ya," he retorted, and you only then realized the ambiguity of both your remarks. A lazy smile formed on your lips and you softly boxed his rib cage.

"Not what I meant," you said with half a laugh and quickly wrapped your arm back around his torso. His warmth was too delicious to give up for even a second. Already you felt ten times warmer than you'd had on your own, and that was just from a few seconds of being wrapped around Joel's middle like a jacket you had been reluctant to bring and now regretted.

"I know, sweetheart," he replied and you could hear the smile in his words. "Always been warm-blooded. S' a blessing in winter and a curse in summer. Always sweatin' my damn balls off from May to September."

"Hmm." You feigned a sound of delight. "Tell me more."

His chest vibrated once more as another round of laughter rumbled through him. This time, it was him who faintly smacked your head at your jest. "I'm serious. Ain't no fun having your balls basically stick to your knees all damn summer."

Your eyelids fluttered close as you rolled your eyes. What a charming picture he was conjuring up in your brain.

"You know, when I said tell me more? I really didn't mean that." You shook your head at the picture of a sweaty ballsack stretched out all the way to the knees. "Christ."

Joel chuckled under you. "You said I'm hot as a' oven. I didn't start this."

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Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

[flemingology]

soft alexia where she always looks for reader after a home game and runs to the stands or dedicates goals to her 🫠🥲🥺

siempre para ti ─ alexia putellas x reader

in which: alexia scores the winner in el clasico. for you.

warnings: none

wc: 1.3k

a/n: 2 posts in 2 days? who am i

Game days. Your worst favourite days. You loved going to watch your girlfriend do what she loves, really, but the nerves that came along with that weren’t as welcomed. Especially with El Clasico.

Alexia went through the motions, as she always did on game days. Had her usual breakfast, did some pre-pre-activation in your home gym and listened to the same 4 songs on repeat like she always did on matchdays. You could cite them all word for word now, but you wouldn’t dare complain and mess up her little routines.

She left you 4 hours before kick-off, a couple lingering kisses that would’ve lead to more if she didn’t have a 90-minute football game to go play, not without your promise that you’d be there and cheer for her if she scored. Alexia knew you’d be there and she knew you’d cheer the loudest of them all if she managed to get the ball in the back of the net, but who minds a little reassurance?

You made your way to the stadium well before the game started, not wanting to get caught in Barcelona’s rush hour traffic. You found your spot in the friends & family box, greeting Eli and Alba with a kiss on the cheek before settling in and glancing over at the Barça team who were already doing their warm-ups.

Alexia scanned the crowd when they were called inside, her gaze lighting up once her eyes found yours. You shot her a wave and an encouraging smile, which she reciprocated quickly – not without having to endure some teasing from Vicky.

The Spanish midfielder would never get used to seeing you in the stands. You probably hadn’t missed a home game yet in the past 4 years of dating each other, but she still felt fuzzy and warm inside when she saw the woman she loved most sitting in the stands of the football club she loved most. You were there for her, to watch her, in her shirt to cheer for her and she wanted to perform for you.

And that’s what she did. Barça took the game by the scruff of its neck, completely dominating and controlling the game from kick-off onwards. Chance after chance, shot after shot, the girls in blaugrana were all over their opponents. Aitana and Caro both had a big chance, but neither could convert. Much to your surprise and the team’s dismay, the 0-0 was still on the board when the referee blew the whistle for half-time.

They’d had the chances to be in front, but they hadn’t been clinical enough. This time, Alexia didn’t search for your eyes before she went into the tunnel, her professional demeanour never wavering a second once she was in game-mode. You hoped she wouldn’t be scolding herself too much over the promising free-kick she wasted.

The teams came back out 15 minutes later, and you finished up chatting to Alba as the game started again. More of the same, as expected, as Barça once again took control of the game. They were playing good football, passing the ball around, making runs in the channels and creating chances, but it felt like they couldn’t cross that final hurdle. Ingrid almost scored from a corner and they were claims for a penalty after a harsh tackle on Ewa, but nothing given.

It wasn’t until stoppage time that they had their best chance of the game. Some combinations at the back to play out of Madrid’s press, Patri was now rushing forward with the ball in midfield. She scanned the pitch, looking for options to lay the ball off to, sending it outside for Caro to chase. She got there first, beat her defender with a simple step over and sent a cross into the box.

It felt like slow motion, really. The final minutes ticking down on the clock, the ball sailing in the air, bodies pushing one another in the penalty area, until someone fell and they were shouts for a foul. You couldn’t make out who it was, who had fallen, but what you did make out was the whistle and the outstretched arm from the referee. Penalty.

Situations in football didn’t get much more pressure-loaded than this. A 93rd minute game-winning penalty in El Clasico. Your heart hammered against your chest, so you could only imagine how the players were feeling on the pitch. You’d been too caught up in a conversation with Eli to see Alexia had stepped up. She was stood near the ball, hands on her hips as she tried to calm her erratic breathing from having ran around the past 45 minutes.

The whistle sounded and Alexia took another couple deep breaths before beginning her run-up. A couple steps back. One to the side. Another deep breath. Short little steps to begin her run-up. A little pause. And then; the back of the net.

The stadium erupted, you cheered and jumped up and down to celebrate what would surely be the winning goal of the game. Alexia took off towards the corner flag to celebrate with the fans, her teammates soon barrelling in and tackling her down to the ground. You hugged Eli and Alba, the remnants of what had been a nerve-wracking game slowly washing away.

Alexia stood back up after a couple moments and her eyes scanned the friends and family box, looking for you. Your gazes locked and a toothy grin formed on her face, pointing her finger at the badge on her chest and then at you. She blew a kiss your way before turning back around and jogging over to her side of the pitch, leaving you with a warm feeling in your chest. No matter how many goals Alexia would dedicate to you, you’d never get tired of the fact it was your eyes she looked for after she made the ball hit the back of the net. It was you she blew a kiss, you she broke her stern captain bravado for.

It was much later when Alexia finally emerged from the changing room and into the friends and family area, surrounded by teammates and their speaker still playing loud music – clearly all very happy with the derby win. She was dressed in a pair of black trousers and a dark green shirt, clearly planning on celebrating the win. You could hear plans were made for a night out from where you were standing a little away from the group of players, as Alexia silently snuck away and walked over to you.

Your face lit up with a smile as the Barçelona captain come up to you with damp, disheveled hair, eyes tired with the exhaustion from running around for 90 minutes. “Hola, winner,” you teased, the brunette engulfing you in a tight hug. “Nice goal, hmm,” you said, lifting your shoulder a little so she would pull back. “Para ti,” Alexia whispered, her forehead resting against yours. “Siempre para ti.” Alexia accentuated her words with a soft kiss against your lips, pouring all her love for you in the short couple seconds of intimacy.

You closed your eyes and enjoyed the soft moment, clutching onto the back of her shirt tightly before she’d inevitably be pulled away by her teammates to get their night out going. Alexia’s arms circled around your waist in that ever familiar way, and even though you were here in a friends and family box in a stadium an hour and a half away from where you lived, Alexia’s embrace felt like home.

[bunny-1111]

I love love love your writing! I was just re-reading “Theodore Nott who…” and possibly wondered if you could expand on how he reminds reader that he will propose when they are finished school. Kicking my legs giggling thinking about that 😂

Aww, thank you. Of course, I can. Let me know if you have any other requests!! PS I wrote a whole thing, ready to push post now. It was perfect, but something happened, and it didn't save, so I had to rewrite it the best I could, I hope you enjoy this anyway AH I'M SO MAD 🥲,

...

Theodore, at age 11, thought you were the prettiest girl in school

Theodore, at age 13, began to navigate his not-so-small crush on you

Theodore, at age 16, felt his heart in his stomach as he swallowed his pride and finally asked you out

That is where our story starts.

By 17, you got comfortable enough and started spending the night in each other's dorms; one random Tuesday morning, Theo woke up earlier than usual, you were still fast asleep. Theodore was a very productive person. If he woke up early, he would get up, make a coffee, go for a run around the grounds, come back, and shower, all before most had even opened their eyes. As he reached for the corner of his side of the blanket and moved to start his day, you felt him, causing you to stir, your brows quickly scrunching, your body automatically moving towards him; you reached for him even in sleep. Something in his mind slowed, something in his heart raced, something in his soul shook. Dropping the blanket in his hand, he surrendered to you, laying so close, gently caressing your face, feeling peace in your dream state. Then it dawned on him, if I married her, this would be the last face I would see before I slept and the first I would see when I woke up.

That's when it began.

His constant reminders of marriage.

That very morning.

When your eyes fluttered open, Theos wide eyes already met yours, it would've scared you in his eyes weren't so dreamy.

"Good morn-" you start

"Marry me" he interrupted

"What?!" you laughed out. It was too early for this

"Marry me?" he smiled

"shut up" you laughed, reaching your hand under your pillow, softly throwing it at him

"Come on, why not?" he pleaded

"Theodore, we're still in high school, that's why", you smile

"Fine, you fucking time waster, but after we get out of here, I'm gonna marry you", he insisted

You thought it was a passing thought.

Something he wouldn't bring up again.

Boy, were you wrong, he proved that time and time again over the next two years.

Sitting in class, he would peck a kiss on your cheek from behind you. "Kisses for the Mrs" he would whisper with a smile before returning to his own seat

In the great hall, he slapped Matteo's hand away as you and he both reached for the same dish. "Can't you see my fiance wants that slice?" he grits, serving you before Matteo puts it on his own plate. "You aren't fucking engaged?" A defeated Matteo retorts, arms out in confusion. "Don't start", you apologise on behalf of you and your pretend husband

In Hogsmeade, you and Pansy tried on dresses. Theodore was walking past when he saw you in the mirror. Letting himself in, he slithered behind you, his reflection joining yours in the mirror, slipping a hand down your waist. "You know, if you look this good in this dress, I can only imagine how good you'd look in white," he'd smirk, "you know when we get married," he muttered on his way to the register, leaving money, giving the workers strict instructions to charge him for any dress you bought, for them to keep the change too.

When Theodore had early morning Quittich practice, he would leave a steaming cup of coffee or tea on your bedside, accompanied by a note: " To keep you warm while I'm gone, good morning, my better half, Mrs Nott."

When you studied in the libary, you had a very distinct look of focus. He would lay a bored hand on his face, "Come on, let's go for a smoke", he whined, "No, Theodore, We have final exams soon. You should be studying. Go without me if you want" you explain, fingers pointing at text on his book, "not going without you" he said frustrated under his breath. Theodore kept testing, blabbing nonsense, attempting to distract you, staring at you instead of the open books. "Why are we wasting time? You could be pregnant by now," he said, his free hand twirling your hair. This caused you to slam your book closed, looking up at him, your eyes widening. "What!?" he laughed. "If I had it my way, we would've tied the knot last year, and we would have a kid on the way", he continued; you did nothing but shake your head and fight your growing smile.

Walking through the gardens, you pointed at some hydrangeas. "My favourite flowers" you smiled. "I know" he smiled "I'd walk down the aisle with hydrangeas in my hand," you say softly, leaning in to smell the flowers, "When we get married, I will" you say picking some to take with you. Theodore could've fainted on the spot. 'When we get married,' your voice repeated in his mind, pulling you up into a deep kiss

When you finally graduated, Theodore pulled your father aside. If there was something Teddy valued, it was tradition; he was officially asking for your hand.

Returning to you, smiling ear to ear, he suggests you join him on a walk. Reaching the tree near the Black Lake, he kissed your forehead, one hand intertwined with yours, the other hand in his pocket, fidgeting with a small box.

A box containing a ring.

That he had bought on the year prior, now all that was left to do was kneel.

unedited today, sorry for any incorrection I'm too tired to reread or edit rn LOL

in my mind me and teddy r married

him in a suit KILL ME NOW one chance PLS

[chahnniesroom]

hoju (home)

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: even though chan has been living in korea for so many years, he still considers australia to be home. when he finally has the opportunity to go back and visit, he can't wait to bring you along and introduce you to the people and places that he grew up with.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: none :)

a/n: hoju (호주) is the korean word for australia.

this was a request from my sweet 🦦 anon! thank you for the inspiration, i had fun writing this and i hope that it meets your expectations. sorry that i did not write this in chan's pov 😅 as usual, please let me know if there are any typos or mistakes because i didn't have the chance to proofread 🥲

read it on ao3 | masterlist

Chan has been acting strange lately. Not enough that you're worried, just a little bit suspicious. He's never tried to hide what tabs he has open on his phone before and he's looked deep in thought quite a few times, but when you ask what he's thinking of, he changes the topic quickly. You're curious, but trust that Chan will talk to you when he's ready. Still, you can't quite ignore all of the changes in behaviour.

It's the same tonight. When you look up during dinner, Chan's just stirring around the noodles in his plate, only taking a bite every so often. You frown, trying to think of if you've done anything differently to prepare the food in a way that he doesn't like, but it tastes the same to you as usual. You rule out a lack of appetite, as he had just commented that he was starving while you were cooking.

“Is everything okay?” you ask hesitantly, after a few more minutes have passed.

“What?” Chan looks up, startled by the sound of your voice. “Oh no, everything's fine! Just… thinking.”

“Is it about work? Did something happen?” You know that Chan has been busier than usual this month, the boys have some time off in a few weeks and everybody is scrambling to get things finished in the meantime. You've also requested vacation at work, although so far you and Chan haven't planned anything. In fact, he's been a little bit cagey when you've brought up the topic. You try not to think much of it and really, it's just nice to be able to spend extra time together.

Honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if Chan has found out that his break has been cut short or even cancelled. It's rare that they’re able to have more than a few days off at a time which is why you had been so shocked when Chan had let you know that they didn't have schedules for a period of almost three weeks.

It would provide an explanation to everything that you've observed the past few days, you know that he would try his best to fix things before he had to tell you the bad news.

“Well-”

“It's okay if you found out you can't take time off,” you reassure him. “I understand that it's all up to the company and sometimes they change their mind at the last minute. I can just let my work know and take my vacation another time, I'm sure they might even be happy if I'm still around next month.”

“No!” Chan says, his eyes wide in panic. “We still have time off! Don't worry about that. It's actually- How would you feel about visiting Australia with me?”

It's your turn to stare at Chan in shock.

“Australia?”

“Yeah, it's been a while since I went back and-” Chan breaks eye contact, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I thought it'd be nice if I could introduce you to my family, in person.”

“You want me to meet your family? In Australia?” you repeat, dumbly.

“Only if you feel comfortable!” Chan says hurriedly. “I looked into tickets, but didn't book anything yet so it's totally up to you. I also wanted to check if my family was available beforehand and it's pretty good timing actually. If you don't want to, then it's totally fine, I'll probably go for either way and I think Felix is also considering it. It's just that we've been together for a while now and I've met your family and I know that my mom basically considers you to be her daughter-”

“I want to go,” you interrupt, not wanting Chan to spiral further. “I was just surprised, I guess, but of course I want to accompany you.”

Chan brightens at that, then grabs his computer, unlocking it and opening up a spreadsheet. As it loads, he reaches for his chopsticks and takes a huge bite of food. You can't help but smile fondly at the sight of his cheeks bulging with food as he chews, relieved that his appetite is back.

“I didn’t want to get too far ahead of myself, but I was looking at flights, and I think that if we leave on a Tuesday, it might be best. It means we can enjoy the weekend here and still have time to pack everything,” he explains excitedly. “It'll be less busy at the airport too, which will be nice, and it works out well with my parents’ schedules anyway.”

You hum in acknowledgement, content to follow along and take mental notes as Chan reads out everything else that he's thought of so far. He continues planning for the rest of the evening, trailing behind you as you clean up and do your nightly routine, only stopping to help you when you do the dishes and put away the laundry. It's cute how animated he becomes, putting together a long list of all the sites and restaurants that he wants to show you.

You can tell that he's still thinking of it as the two of you curl up in bed that night, every so often you feel him jolt behind you and turn to reach for the little pad of paper and pencil that he often keeps on his nightstand.

Eventually, you turn over and squint at him. He doesn't even pretend to be asleep.

“Hi,” he whispers. “Sorry if I'm keeping you awake.”

“Sleep,” you murmur tiredly. “We have lots of time to plan, get some rest for now and we can talk more tomorrow.”

Chan starts to protest, but you just nuzzle closer, pulling his hands to wrap around you. As you drift off to sleep, you can feel that Chan has finally relaxed too.

—

The two of you spend the first day of break slowly, sleeping in and having a lazy meal of bibimbap from all the banchan taking up space in your fridge. You only venture out of the apartment for dinner, going to your favourite local restaurant that you visit so often that the owner starts making your meals the second that the two of you step through the door. The next couple of days are also easygoing, consisting of shopping, watching dramas, and eventually preparing for your trip.

Throughout the drive to the airport and making your way through security and to your gate, you can tell Chan's a bit on edge even though you and Felix try to assure him that everything will be fine. The three of you are in incognito mode, wearing hats, face masks, and plain clothes but Chan’s still scanning your surroundings the whole time. You, on the other hand, can't help but be excited, bouncing at his side so much that he loops his arm over your shoulders to try and calm you down. Felix is more relaxed and laughs at the stark contrast between the both of you, even filming parts of it since he’s getting footage for a vlog. Luckily you know that any content with you in it is likely to be edited out and don’t bother to hide your eagerness.

While Chan is used to travelling often for concerts and other overseas schedules, you've rarely visited places outside of Korea and have certainly never flown business class. You squeeze Chan's hand when you see your seats, thrilled at the idea of having so much leg room and a divider between the two of you that can also be fully lowered. It keeps you entertained for the whole time before the plane takes off, taking pictures together and reclining your seat up and down until the seatbelt sign turns on.

The flight is over 10 hours, so it doesn't take long before you move your attention to browsing the menu that's available and scrolling through all of the movies on the in-flight entertainment system. Shortly after the dinner meal is served, you start to doze off. Wanting to make the most of the experience, you insist to Chan that you'll be able to stay awake to watch another movie with him, but only make it through the first 30 minutes before you wake up to a dark screen.

You blink up blearily as a flight attendant starts making their way through the aisles, handing out customs forms for everyone to fill out. When you receive yours, you stare at it for a few seconds before realising the problem is not the fact that you're still adjusting to being awake.

“Oh no,” you whisper in horror, causing Chan to glance over at you, concerned.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I didn’t think about practising English before this trip,” you reply, distress leaking into your voice. “The last time that I wrote anything in English was when I was in secondary school… I'm not going to survive in Australia!”

“Hey, it's not an issue, I'll be with you the whole time! You don't have to worry about any of that. And you know enough conversational English to get by, I know you do,” Chan says soothingly.

You refuse to be comforted, burying your face into your hands.

“How am I going to face your parents when I barely know anything other than ‘hi, how are you?’” you moan. “I'm not even going to make it through customs! They're going to arrest me when I can't answer any of their questions!”

You know that you're exaggerating, but it makes Chan laugh so hard that tears gather in the corners of his eyes. You try to keep up your act, but end up dissolving into laughter too at the way that Chan is trying so hard to stay quiet, not wanting to bring attention to you two.

Contrary to your fears, you manage to deplane, get through customs, and collect your luggage without any major issues. You had a moment of anxiety when Chan and Felix split up from you since you have to go into the lineup for foreign passports, but you are somehow able to fumble your way through the conversation with the border officer without being detained.

Felix splits up with you shortly after, you see that his tiredness from the long flight melts away the second that he sees his family. He gives you and Chan both a quick hug to say goodbye before running out to meet them.

Chan lights up in a similar way when he finally spots his parents. They're waiting in the pick-up zone and waves the two of you over quickly. You barely get the chance to say hi before Chan’s mother is enveloping you into a hug.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she says warmly. “Come on, let’s take you home.”

The drive is fairly short and it feels like no time at all before you’re approaching the house. The second that the front door opens, you hear a distinctive scrabble of claws against hardwood before Berry shoots towards Chan, tail wagging furiously. Chan immediately kneels down to give her better access, laughing when she stands on her hind legs to lick at his face.

Once she’s finished with that, she turns to you, barking curiously before moving closer. You stick out a hand for her to get an idea of your scent and try not to jump when you feel the cool, damp press of her nose against your palm. Whatever Berry smells, she approves of, giving you a few quick licks before running back to Chan.

“She’s so cute!” you exclaim, pulling out your phone so that you can take a picture of the reunion. You don't think that Chan even hears you, caught up in talking to Berry, giving her kisses and allowing her to do the same.

“I'll help you with your bags,” Chan's father says from beside you, easily lifting them out of your hands and motioning for you to enter the house. You exchange greetings with both of Chan's siblings as you remove your shoes, familiar with them through video calls and the one time that you met Hannah when she was travelling in Korea.

Chan’s family recently moved so this was also Chan’s first time seeing the house in person, the two of you trailing behind Chan’s father as he gave you a brief tour of the first floor before leading you upstairs. When you get to the guest room that you'll be staying in, Hannah pops her head in.

“Chris doesn’t spend enough time in Australia to have his own room in this house, so you guys are in this room.” She eyes you for a moment and based on the mischievous smile that’s growing, you can guess what she’s about to say. “Y/n, if you get sick of him, then feel free to stay with me instead!”

“Hey!” Chan complains, not even looking up from where he’s unpacking his bag. He grabs onto one of his shirts and chucks it at Hannah, but she easily dodges, throwing one of her slippers at him in retaliation. It hits Chan right in the chest and he looks at her in disbelief. He abandons his task in favour of chasing her throughout the house. You don't follow after, but you hear as their yelling and laughter echoes through the halls.

It’s refreshing to see Chan at home, no matter how comfortable Chan is with the rest of the kids, he’s still the leader of the group and the oldest member and the dynamic of their relationship reflects that. Even though it has barely been a few hours, you’re relieved to find that Chan has left behind the stresses of being an idol and can instead just be a son and an older brother.

His parents are hilarious and kind, it’s easy to see how Chan’s personality is a reflection of the environment that he was raised in. During dinner, you laugh at the way Chan pouts dramatically when Chan’s father pretends to forget about Chan when serving the food and how he groans in pleasure when he finally gets to taste his mother's cooking after so long. Hannah and Lucas continually crack jokes as you eat, especially if they're at Chan's expense and he pretends that he doesn't find them funny.

—

One afternoon you find Chan fiddling with the camera that he’s brought with him. You step up behind him, resting your chin on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Are you planning on filming tonight?” you ask, knowing that Chan was always careful to alert everyone in the house beforehand.

“Not today,” he replies. “Probably tomorrow, when I take out Berry for her morning walk. Did you want to join?”

“Of course!”

“I was thinking of going right after breakfast, before it gets too hot out,” he says as he pulls out the camera battery and fits it into the charger.

“Anywhere in particular you wanted to go?”

“Mmm, maybe by the water? There's a path that's not too far away. I don't want anything that's too close to the house, you know?”

“Good idea.”

“Are you planning on putting it into a vlog?” you ask curiously. "You haven't been filming much.”

"Actually…”

“What? You're making me nervous.”

“I was hoping to use it for a music video,” Chan says sheepishly.

“What?! I'm not qualified for that!! I can't- you need to find someone else-”

“No no, it's going to be fine! It's for a record, not like, an actual music video.”

“I don't know,” you say, still feeling hesitant.

“I promise, I'm going for the casual vibes and it's either you or like, my eomma, and I guarantee that you would do a better job.”

“Okay,” you say reluctantly. “But I can't guarantee it'll come out well.”

“Thank you! I know it'll be great,” Chan says, showering you with kisses in gratitude until you're squirming away.

—

The next morning, Chan’s parents are out, leaving all the kids to prepare food on their own. It's a little chaotic, but you manage to cobble together a decent meal. It's a lot of fun to see how Chan and his siblings interact without their parents around to mediate. You're amazed by how similar the three are, not only in appearance but also the way they behave.

Although much younger, Lucas shares a strong resemblance to Chan, especially once he smiles and shows off matching dimples. They quickly disappear once Chan reaches out and musses up his hair playfully as you’re all cleaning up.

“Chris, stop it,” he complains, pushing his older brother away before trying to fix the strands that are all over the place. It only encourages Chan to move closer, wrapping his arms around his brother and lifting him into the air. When trying to wiggle free doesn’t work, he turns pleading eyes to you, knowing Hannah wouldn't step in to help. “Noona! Get him to let me down!”

The two of you had been awkward the first time you had been left alone, it hadn’t helped that Lucas’ Korean could be considered conversational at best and your English was significantly worse, but you had quickly grown close through attempts to tease Chan. Now, it’s easy to treat him like the little brother you never had.

You approach quickly, trying to avoid Lucas’ flailing limbs, and reach out to poke at Chan’s waist. He twitches away from your touch and when you persist in prodding at all his ticklish spots, unwinds one of his arms to swat at your hand.

The distraction is enough for Lucas to break away and he quickly moves out of reach. Instead of chasing after him, Chan turns his focus to you. You back away nervously, but find yourself with nowhere to go. Chan grabs you and easily slings you over your shoulder, ignoring your shrieks of protest.

“Betrayed by my own girlfriend? I should have known that introducing you to my siblings would just be asking for trouble,” he growls in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Hey! Where are you taking me?” You look to see if his siblings are going to rescue you, but they must be trying to avoid Chan's wrath as you don't see either of them as Chan brings you up to the guest room.

“I am enlisting your help,” he says casually, as if he wasn't carrying you up a flight of stairs and dropping you on the bed. “I would like your advice on what to wear for Berry's walk.”

“Ooh,” you say. “Very important business then, I'm honoured that you would ask me.”

It doesn't actually take much time to get ready, the two of you change into clothes for the heat and you just have to convince Chan that he doesn't have to try to do his hair or makeup. The second that you mention to Berry that you're going for a walk, her tail starts wagging non-stop and she even fetches her leash and drops it in front of you.

Chan doesn't give you much direction for filming, just hands you the camera and tells you to capture whatever you want. The two of you walk hand in hand through the neighbourhood, Berry happily exploring the area. As you get further away from the house, you let go of Chan, motioning for him to continue walking as you turn on the camera and get used to it.

By the time you've reached the waterfront, you're feeling more confident and have a better idea of what you like. You try out different angles, feeling a little bit like paparazzi, and after a few minutes, even try directing Chan too. You let him keep going, wanting to see how far away he'll go before he realises that you're not following. He's almost a block away before he turns back.

“You’re smiling, did it come out okay?” Chan asks as he jogs back towards you.

“Yeah, it was great! I was just thinking that Stay are going to go crazy over this,” you tell him.

“They do really like it whenever they get to see Berry,” he says thoughtfully, picking her up and scratching her head. You burst out laughing at that and Chan frowns in response and goes as far as to cover Berry’s ears, insulted on her behalf. “What? Don’t laugh at that, it’s true! Berry is just so cute.”

“I’m not saying that they don’t like Berry, of course they do. I was more referring to the fact that the video is… domestic. Very boyfriend.”

“Ooh you think that's what Stay are interested in?” he asks. “What about this?”

He gestures for you to lift up the camera, and once you're recording, grabs your hand to pull you along behind him. You let out a small noise of surprise as he tugs on your arm, struggling slightly to keep everything steady and ensure your hand is out of frame. At your sound, Chan looks back slightly and bursts into laughter.

“So concentrated, you’re so cute,” he giggles.

“Of course,” you grumble. “I want it to turn out nice.”

“Thank you,” Chan says sincerely, no traces of laughter in his voice. “I really do appreciate it a lot that you're helping me with work even though we're on vacation.”

“Hmm,” you say, turning away from him. “You're just glad that you didn't have to ask Hannah, because she would make fun of you the whole time.”

“That's not true! I mean, it is true that Hannah would do that, but that's not the only reason.” Chan uses your connected hands and pulls you close. “I also wanted to spend time with my favourite person in the whole world.”

“You're lucky I love you so much,” you sniff, still pretending to be annoyed even though you've practically melted into Chan's hug. “Now stop getting distracted, I thought it would look nice if you walked along the sand and there's nobody there right now.”

—

The rest of your time in Sydney is a whirlwind of activities. Chan is determined to take you to all his favourite places in the city and you eat more food than you thought possible. Chan’s family, and sometimes Felix and his family, accompanies you two for a majority of the outings and your initial hesitance interacting with them is replaced by fondness, eased by the way that they treat you like one of their own.

You even have a chance to meet some of Chan’s childhood friends, ones that he kept close with despite the long distance. It feels strange to eat dinner with them. Although they do their best to make you feel welcome, they have a lot of history together and you find yourself struggling to keep up with their conversation, not just because of the language barrier but due to references to people, places, and events that you're unfamiliar with. Regardless, you're glad to finally know the people that Chan grew up with and you love seeing how happy Chan is to be reunited with them.

It’s also nice that while you're meeting so many people, you don't have to hide your relationship at all. In Korea, you and Chan are more careful in public. It’s not totally a secret that you’re dating, but you are more on the cautious side due to the popularity of Stray Kids and inevitable scrutiny from fans. In Australia, Chan has no such reservations, excitedly introducing you as his girlfriend to everyone. It never fails to make you blush, feeling shy, but secretly pleased.

Wherever you go, Chan keeps you close to his side, linking your hands or looping an arm around your shoulders. Throughout the day, he presses kisses to your head or cheek. The first time he does it, you look up at him questioningly. He just shrugs, saying that he’s happy and well, you can’t argue with that.

You don’t want your vacation to end and you know you're not the only one. You and Chan have both procrastinated packing your luggage until the last possible moment, and when you finally do begin, Berry seems to sense it. She starts hiding all of your things- Chan's family members finding them lodged in one of the couch cushions or in her dog bed- and curling up inside your suitcase, making it practically impossible to continue packing.

When Chan enters your shared room and pauses when he sees you staring into the suitcase helplessly. You wave him over so that he can look inside.

“She’s too cute! Look at that little face, how could you disturb her?” you ask.

Chan has no such reservations. He reaches in and gently lifts Berry out, cradling her against his chest so that she can’t jump back in.

“Berry, do you want to come to Korea with us?” he asks patiently. When she licks at his face in reply, he groans and pretends to lower her back into the suitcase. “Ah, I guess we have no choice but to bring you! I think we can sneak you in with the rest of the souvenirs that we’re taking with us.”

Despite Chan’s promises, Berry ends up staying behind, not even joining you on the drive to the airport. You’re lucky that you decide to leave well before your flight is expected to depart as you end up taking almost half an hour saying goodbye to everybody.

You know that you’re going to treasure these memories for a long time and you’re certain that Chan will too. It’s amazing that even though you were only in Australia for a couple weeks, it already feels like a second home.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[xotaemintol]

Who are the best kissers in NCT iyo? (Plz include RIIZE im begging)

NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

! (You will be blocked if you are a minor) !

Ofc I can add Riize 🩷🩷 I hope you don’t mind that I only did six members, this list would be even longer if not for my writers block 🥲 but in my opinion, the best kissers in NCT are….

Yuta is such a good kisser. Probably the best on the list actually, when he kisses you it always feels so sensual—he used the perfect amount of tongue; never too much or too little. He’s confident in his skills so he usually ends up leading, in the beginning of the kiss he’ll let you lead for a little while, especially if you kissed him first. But when he’s done letting you take the wheel, he’ll change the pace and add a little tongue. If you let him, he’ll kiss you until your lungs are aching, but even then it’s not enough for him. He has to keep going until you’re begging for him to fuck you, he kisses you until you’re basically begging for more. He’s the most likely to finger you while making out with you because he gets so turned on by kissing you, it happens so often actually that you refuse to kiss him in public unless it’s small kisses on the cheek.

Mark, is definitely one of the best kissers in NCT. The first time you made out with him as a dare and it was so good you were practically dragging him to his bedroom. Ever since then Mark has always been the best. And you should’ve expected it when he said that he was “pretty okay” at kissing. He’s more of a slow and steady type of guy when it comes to kissing, he wants to make sure you really feel his lips—that you feel butterflies when he slips his tongue into your mouth and that you can tell just how badly he wants to be inside of you. He won’t hold you there until you’re about to pass out from the lack of oxygen, in fact he’s the first to pull away; but it’s only so he can watch you follow his lips waiting for more. He thinks kissing you is so hot, and he finds it so sexy when you get turned on from kissing him.

Sungchan is almost too good, his lips are so soft and warm, they feel otherworldly. He could kiss your underwear off and you wouldn’t even notice, and it’s actually happened more than once or twice. The way his tongue feels in your mouth makes your knees so weak, if your lungs gave out from kissing him you’d be perfectly fine with that because he’s so good. Making out with him when you can’t go all the way is like asking to be frustrated for the rest of the day, and he doesn’t make it any better. His hands are just as slick as his tongue, and as soon as he feels your lips quiver he knows exactly what to do next. It goes from kissing to practically fucking each other with your mouths, it’s so passionate and heated…you could get off just from kissing him and he knows that too.

Jaehyun is very obviously a great kisser, he’s so smug about it too—grinning against your lips when you lean into him a bit too much or quickly. Biting down on your bottom lip ever so softly as he pulls away, and he can’t even hide how turned on he gets when kissing you too. It’s so hot. The way he breathlessly chuckles as hes teasing you by just grazing your lips with his own, even if his entire face is flushed and he’s practically panting. But when he starts actually kissing you he immediately becomes weak in the knees, moaning quietly into your mouth with you sat on his lap…he’s so weak when he’s making out with you and it only makes kissing him feel so much better.

Haechan is so good…he always leaves you wanting more, you could kiss him until his lips fall off. The way his lips feel is so heavenly, and when he’s kissing you he’s not going to tease you…if he’s not too frustrated that is. But on his worse days (but best for you) when he’s desperate to be inside of you, he kisses you like he need you to breathe. Don’t pull away from him for a second, he’ll hold your head there and keep going until you’re both light headed. Not even then is he done though, with kiss swollen lips he’ll pull you closer to him—until your bodies are so close that they could melt together from the heat, and continues the kiss you broke. He looks so fucked out just from making out with you, his entire face is flushed and he’s panting as he starts at you and then your lips…he’s just as addicted to kissing you as you are him.

Ten is so good that he makes you feel sensitive, hes either really experienced or just really luckily to be that good. He chuckles against your lips every time you whimper or moan into his mouth, sometimes if he’s feeling kinky enough he’ll lick your tongue. He’s such a kinky kisser. Kissing him is almost better than sex, and instead of kissing you until your lips hurt he’ll pull away and make you ask for him to kiss you. And don’t just say you want it, no. He wants you to describe how you want him to kiss you, if you want his tongue in your mouth you better say it, if you want him to bite your lip you better say it. Depravity is the key for him, it’s okay if you cant keep up with him—but he always expects you to learn and apply what you’ve learned where you see fit. And that means returning all of his teasing bites, every lick, and all of his slightly degrading remarks.

[jwanniie]

Can u do g!p doctor minji x reader fucking in her office making her cockdrunk and they do it many times?

I know you're busy rn so don't worry just take your time🥹 thank you I advance!! ♡

You can’t miss a Doctors appointment!

Pairings: G!p Minji x fem reader!

Warnings: BREEDING, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your Willy), not proofread, p in v, mention of pregnancy, overstimulation, creampie, big dick, a little bit of manipulation, pantie stealing and just Filthy smut!!

Jwans Note: I’m not really satisfied with how this turned out but hope you enjoy!!😔🥲

—————————————————————————

Meet Minji, a newly graduated doctor who had just landed her dream job at one of the world's most prestigious hospitals. Her hard work and dedication had paid off, and her parents couldn't have been prouder. They beamed with pride whenever they spoke of their daughter's remarkable achievements, and her success became the talk of the neighborhood. Her family had always known that Minji was destined for greatness, and now, she had proved them right. With her exceptional skills and a heart full of compassion, she was ready to take on the world and make a positive impact on the lives of others.

She basically was every medical students goal, they all wanted to be like her one day.

It was no surprise that the hospital gave her a private office. Soon, patients started pouring in and the day was filled with treating and helping them.

But there was this one patient that stuck to the back of her mind and didn’t seem to leave. You came to her office one day for a yearly check, and your results were above great but from the first time she laid her eyes on you, she knew she had to have you.

She made little “changes” to your file, perhaps a little sabotage so you could visit her office more often. It was all with a good intention, she thought.

You were waiting outside in her waiting room. This is the third time you have been here, for an unknown reason. She told you that she has to make more checks and she needed to make sure that everything is alright, but you still don’t understand what she wants? Every time you asked her is there something bothering your health, she didn’t give a straight answer, just shrugging it off and mumbling incoherent stuff.

“Miss y/n, come inside!” The secretary behind the counter told you. You quickly took your stuff and left for Minjis office.

Once she saw you enter her office she flashed you her signature warm smile, that seemed to leave every patient with heart eyes.

That happened to you when you first came to her office but as the time passed, those heart eyes slowly started fading.

You placed your coat on the hanger and sat down on the chair in front of her desk, the last thing you wanted to seem was rude so you returned a smile, a nervous one.

“Hi miss y/n! How have you been?” She questioned seeming really interested.

“I have been well myself, so is there something bothering my health?” you chuckled nervously, raising an brow afterwards.

She stood up and guided you to the examination bed, making you lay on it. Your breathing was unreasonably heavy and low. Your hands on your sides, while she was wearing her gloves.

“If that’s okay with you, could you take your clothes off?” She looked at you from the corner of her eyes before turning fully to look down at you.

You gulped nervously never have a doctor asked you anything like this but at the end of the day she is a doctor she must know what she is doing…😮‍💨🫣

You slid down your jeans before pulling your shirt over your head, handing it to her. She looked at you like she still was waiting for something, and that’s when you realized what she indicated.

Without much thought you just decided to make her life easier and just take your panties off, and so you did. She had her hand out to you when you took off your panties while a smirk across her face, you gave it to her even tho a crimson colored layer was over your cheeks. You didn’t miss how she stuffed your panties in her pocket.

At first everything was so normal, doing normal doctor check ups, and the doctor stuff that everyone have been through.

But not long after her hands started roaming around your form, her hands slowly reaching and nearing your core and you couldn’t help but let out a whimper when her fingers touched your embarrassingly wet pussy.

What could you do? You couldn’t deny that doctor Minji was hot, insanely hot! And you couldn’t deny how every night after meeting her, your fingers couldn’t satisfy you anymore. She wasn’t the only one desperate and hungry for you, you were for her too!

She smirked at the sound leaving your lips her finger pad teasing your walls reasoning for more breathy whimpers to fall past your lips. You were soaking her fingers and the examination bed already having a wet patch on it.

She undressed her white coat and slid her slacks down, exposing her deprived cock. Looking at the erection it seemed heavy and her red-ish tip leaking white salty substance.

You rubbed your thighs together at the sight a whine making it way out of your lips. She climbed on the examination bed and aligned her cock with your velvety walls. Before completely pushing in, her cock stretching your hymen, making you feel like at any moment you’d bleed. But the feeling was pleasurable nonetheless.

The waiting of months finally have paid off and she finally got to bury her cock deep in you. The bed rocking back and forth due to her ruthless thrust, making you feel that her cock was in your womb, hitting spots you didn’t know existed.

You were holding her shoulders for dear life, your nails sinking deep into her flesh, your knuckles turning white due to your grip.

Her Head buried into the crook of your neck, giving kitty licks onto your invisible Adam apple and sucking on the flesh, purple marks filling your, she could taste the chemical taste of your perfume and that only made her mind numb and intoxicated with the whole moment.

Both of you letting out the deepest sounds and whimpers, without warning her seed flew deep into you, straight onto your womb. The chances of you getting pregnant by her sent you over the edge, your own liquid pushing out her creamy substance.

“G’na get you pregnant baby, y-you could come Check in my office every day!” She whispered near your ear, shivers running down your spine.

She furrowed her brows, your own juices pushing her cum was making her annoyed, and without realizing it wasn’t long till her cock was again deep inside you. Your pussy tightening and clenching uncontrollably around her while overstimulation hitting you hard, a choked gasp came from you.

The pain and abuse of her cock making your eyes water. Tears sliding down your cheeks, it was replaced by mind blowing pleasure once again, your previous orgasm making the knot in your stomach snap, and fresh round of your juices tried to push her cock out but failed since the ramming of her cock was deep and rough, making your legs give up and your body laying limp.

She let out a growl before her balls shot new layer of cum into your abused hole, a satisfied sigh came from her.

She pulled out slowly trying not to overstimulate you more, and she saw how her cum gushed out. Her finger smeared her liquid before pushing it back in deeper. She kissed your puffy tear stained cheeks and caressed your closed lids softly.

She cleaned you up in the bathroom connected with her office and declined all of the appointments of the day.

[f1byjessie]

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part seven.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 23,873 others

yourusername had to take these pictures myself bc apparently angles are “too hard”

view all 1,972 comments

landonorris maybe you should’ve just asked me 🙄

↳ yourusername as much as i love your results you turn what should be a quick 5 mins into a 20 min photoshoot

↳ landonorris yes and?? i’m not seeing what the downside is 🤨

user HOW MANY LETTERS IN SARGEANT???

user literally who needs boys when girls like y/n exist

↳ user REAL

logansargeant i know about angles

↳ yourusername yes logie and your future girlfriends will thank me for it 🫶

user that dress is stunning and i want it but i know it costs more than a month’s worth of my pay 🥲🥲🥲

user ferrari spotted = y/n for ferrari 2024

↳ user get that girl in a formula car and leT HER DRIVE

oscarpiastri in my defense your heels make you as tall as me 🫤

↳ yourusername methinks it’s just bc you only know how to take one type of picture and it’s the awkward dad kind 🫤

user OSCAR??? HAS OUR HUSBAND RETURNED FROM THE WAR???

↳ user mama y papa

user OP81 IS BACK IN THESE COMMENTS WAR IS OVER

With Oscar by your side, time passes quickly. You don’t bring up that the first night you shared a bed, you’d woken up in the morning with his arm wrapped around your waist and his breath tickling the back of your neck, and you certainly don’t mention that he’d practically whined in his sleep when you’d slipped out of his grasp. It doesn’t happen again, but there’s a part of you hoping that it does.

The days blend together into a haze of happiness, laughter, and exploring the beauty of Monaco. Lando shows you the best spots— a garden just off the Monte Carlo marina, a famous nightclub that takes your breath away, and a small cafe at the edge of the city that overlooks it all.

Things are good, great even, but you can’t help but feel like there’s still some distance between you and Oscar despite his reassurance that everything is fine.

When New Year’s Eve— and subsequently your birthday— arrives, you’re awoken to a flurry of texts. Your parents have both sent sweet messages wishing you the best, Sophia has left a voice message with sounds of traffic in the background telling you she’s planning to get wasted and if you do too then you can just pretend you’re wasted together, and Dalton has made a group chat with you and Logan and has spammed you both with pictures of yourselves from across the years.

Oscar’s already gone, and his side of the bed is cold, so you take your time responding to them all and then shoot off a message of your own to Logan before getting up. It’s your first time not celebrating with your brother, and it feels strange knowing that you won’t get to see him today, but you’re excited nonetheless for the plans Lando and the other drivers in Monaco have organized for New Year’s Eve.

The day passes by lazily. Lando and Oscar both greet you with birthday wishes when you make your way down to the living room and then they present to you a feast for breakfast, which you realize is the reason Oscar was awake so much earlier than you. It’s the best breakfast you’ve ever had, mostly because they make fools of themselves retelling how many times they had to scrap the failed waffles until they got it right. You spend lunch at a place close by, joined by Alex and Lily who have flown in for the New Year, and then the rest of the afternoon you wait around at Lando’s place passing the time watching the boys play games on the TV and helping either of them cheat when asked.

You’re happy.

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tagged: yourusername

logansargeant people say twins are like built-in best friends, and if that’s the case then i’m glad i got you as mine. i can’t imagine having anyone else stick by my side throughout all the crazy and wild shit we’ve been through in our lives. it feels like just yesterday we were 13 and acting as each other's lifelines in a place we barely knew, and now we’re 23 and somehow doing the same thing. you’re my best friend forever.

view all 2,117 comments

yourusername love you to the moon and back again logie 🫶 (but omg these pictures are so OLD)

↳ logansargeant love you to the stars and beyond 🫶 (yea well when else am i gonna post them?)

user i thought the only reason i’d be crying today is bc i don’t have a nye kiss but here we are aND THE BABY HANDS OMG

user I CAN’T DO THIS 😭😭😭

user sobbing over a birthday post was not on my 2023 bingo but i’ll be sure to add it to 2024 if this is gonna be a yearly thing

↳ user birthdays are a yearly thing so yea 💀

user i can’t stop thinking about the fact that each other was all they had when logan pursued racing in europe and now logan’s made it to f1 and they’re still all they have 😭

↳ user the sargeant twins are genuinely gonna be the death of me one of these days

user Y/N HAS BEEN THERE FOR HIM SINCE THE BEGINNING OMG

williamsracing Happiest of birthdays to Y/N! We look forward to seeing you out on the paddock more in 2024, and can’t wait to see what the new year has in store for you! 💙

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tagged: logansargeant

yourusername 23 + 23 = 46. 4 + 6 = 10. 10 - 2 = 8 and that’s what we’ve done for the last 23 years 😎 but real talk, i’m genuinely so honored to get to be your sister, and to share so much with you. when you win i share that joy, and when you lose i share that grief, and even though we’re an ocean away, i’m with you today and always for the rest of our lives. you’re my best friend, and even if i don’t have anything or anyone else, i know i have you and that makes me the luckiest girl in the world ❤️.

view all 934 comments

user ATE ATE ATE

logansargeant went through all the stages of grief as i read that caption

↳ yourusername i do try

↳ logansargeant i know

user HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARGEANT TWINS

user these pictures of logan are SENDING ME

↳ user y/n always feeds the ppl the low qual pics

alex_albon adding these to my folder of embarrassing pictures to blackmail logan with

↳ yourusername happy doing business with you sir 🤝

user SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING

user my mental health is dependent on the friendship between y/n and logan and it is STRUGGLING today lads

user can’t wait to see more of them in 2024!!

Lando finds you as you’re getting ready, putting the final touches on your makeup. He enters when you tell him to, and then leans against the bathroom counter for a moment just staring at you before you quirk an eyebrow at him.

“How are things going between you and Oscar?”

You lower the mascara wand and shrug, “I mean, it’s good.”

“But?” He prompts.

“But I feel like he’s still… being weird?” You slip the wand back into the mascara tube and then tuck it back into your bag. “I don’t know. Maybe we were a bit too realistic with the whole ‘making him jealous’ thing, and now he believes you’ve stuck your claim and he’s distancing himself because he doesn’t want to step on your toes or something.”

Lando snorts, “As if. I made him share a room with you, how does that in any way imply that I’m trying to stake my claim on you?”

You run a hand through your hair because you can’t run it down your face without ruining your freshly done makeup, and heave a sigh. “Then maybe he just isn’t actually interested in me at all, and I was right about him wanting to pretend the kiss never happened.”

He hums, then nods once, twice, a third time, and finally leaves the bathroom without another word.

When you finally follow him down, a number of people have already arrived— Alex and Lily are among them, and you greet them again with smiles and hugs. You’re introduced to Max Fewtrell, one of Lando’s close friends, and then you’re dragged away by Lily to hang out in the corner of the living room as the house begins to fill with current and former drivers alike.

“It’s a sausage fest,” she jokes, and you laugh beside her.

You both make conversation for a while, catching up on her and Alex’s holiday spent in California with her family and then talking about your own in Florida with yours. She asks how Logan’s doing, and you tell her that he’s well, but he’s really motivated and wants the chance to prove himself in the 2024 season already.

“I think the online discourse about whether or not he deserved a seat got to him a bit,” you admit. “But I know he can show them that there’s a reason he was chosen.”

Lily nods. “Me and Alex have faith in him too. It was his rookie year and he was in a Williams of all things. Like you said, there was a reason he was chosen, he just needs the opportunity to show the world that.”

You jump from topic to topic for a little while longer, until you excuse yourself to go find where Lando and Oscar have run off to. The guests have all arrived from the looks of it, and while a number of them all know each other already and have split off into groups to stay entertained, you’re not sure exactly how you’re meant to handle things on your own when it isn’t even your house—

“I mean, it’s fine, yeah? It’s just awkward with her, I guess.” You pause. The door to you and Oscar’s shared room is ajar and Oscar’s voice is just barely audible over the sound of music and chatter filtering up from downstairs.

“Why d’you say that? It’s just Y/N.” Lando’s voice follows.

You press yourself up against the wall, heart pounding in your chest at the sound of your name. You can’t see anything, and that almost makes it worse— imagining what their faces look like as they talk about you.

“Just that it’s weird sleeping next to her, and I feel like I’m always having to walk on glass around her. I’m trying to make things normal again, but I don’t think I can. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep being friends with her. How can I look her in the face, knowing what happened?”

You can physically feel the dread settle into your stomach. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest and it’s like your blood has turned to ice in your veins. Your face feels warm, but the rest of your body feels cold, and suddenly it’s as though your ribcage has become too small for your lungs.

As quietly as you can, you scurry away from the door, across the distance of the hallway, and then down the stairs. Instead of turning into the living room where everyone else has gathered, their laughter and conversations a jumbled bubble of noise that makes your chest feel even tighter, you leave through the front door just as you feel tears begin to fall.

It’s worrying how frequently this has become an occurrence for you— crying because of Oscar.

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries @spacegirlstuff @myxticmoon @landosgirlxoxo @k-pevensie28 @moonypixel

━━ a/n: ahhhh i'm sorry i cannot let them be happy!! also, wrote this really fast and struggled a bit because i genuinely couldn't decide if it was just too fast paced or not, so i apologize if it seems rushed or if there are any mistakes editing wise that i missed!

[bella-goths-wife]

Hi :3, i am new in here and i'm a bit lose, ¿Why does Vox sees their pet like a substitute daughter 🥲?

Sorry if the question it's a bit dumb, but i genuinely don't understand that 🥲

Anyways, i hope you have a great and lovely day (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ (and sorry if i said something wrong, english it's not my first language)

No it’s okay, I’d love to explain it :D

Why does Vox see pet as a daughter

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage and pregnancy, obsessive behaviour, forced affection, forced paternal behaviour, just overall a complicated and sick dynamic, abuse mentions

This is just my story’s backstory for Vox since i can’t find a canon backstory

So we all know that vox is from the 1950s

And we know that most men from the 1950s had it built into them that it was their duty to continue the family name and legacy by marrying a nice girl and having a few kids

And I believe Vox would be a very big believer in legacy and having an heir to pass down his legacy to, since he was probably a big celebrity and quite wealthy

But during his time of being alive, he never had any children

He had an arranged marriage that was set up by his father, in which he married a woman he had never or would never love

But Vox wanted one thing from this marriage, one simple thing that he craved so heavily

A child

At first he was convinced he wanted a boy, someone who he could mold into being someone worthy of carrying on his last name

But then he realised something, having a son would only challenge Vox as the man of the house

What if his son became more than Vox or overpassed him?

Most fathers would be proud of their son achieved great things but the thought only made Vox seethe in jealousy that one day his legacy would be surpassed by something he created

But a daughter, she would be his to protect without the worry that she would ever overpass him

He wanted something he could own and protect, something to be part of his legacy but always staying below him

A daughter is what Vox wanted more than anything, a daughter that was strong enough to be given his last name but weak enough to need his protection

Of course he’d want a son or two to continue his last name, but a daughter is the only child he’d ever love

Sadly, he and his wife were unable to have children with his wife only being able to conceive and lose pregnancies

The furthest pregnancy that they got to was when his wife was six months pregnant before losing the baby

During the six months Vox fantasised about his child, his perfect girl who he would love more than anything

So when his wife lost the baby, he felt a part of himself lock away forever

The softer part of himself was pushed away to die

He threw himself into his work to distract himself from the loss of his child

He also threw himself into many criminal situations and made very bad decisions which would later land him a place in hell

Vox had already given up on the thought of having children during the living and finding out that sinners couldn’t conceive only pushed him further into the belief that having a daughter wasn’t in the cards for him

And then he met you

Granted when he met you he just assumed you were another scrawny sewer rat who had to steal and cheat just to afford some food

But you quickly changed his mind once you started working for him

Seeing your abilities progress and grow stronger was a magnificent sight for Vox, it was an achievement that he had coined for himself as your mentor

Combining your abilities was also an amazing feeling, to know that there was someone in hell who could only enhance his power made him feel like he could rule the underworld

You unlocked parts of him that he had long forgotten, a more forgiving and softer side

You were strong enough to protect yourself but also weak enough to need his protection

You were smart enough to keep up with Voxs conversations but also naive enough to manipulate to his wishes

You had a strong ability but not strong enough to survive outside of his providing, at least in his mind

You were young enough for him to be able to see as a child at 18, but also old enough for him to be able to exploit you and profit off of you

You were the perfect heir in his mind, the daughter he had always craved

So Vox would find himself being fatherly towards you and showing you fatherly affection, even if he ignored the way you tensed up at his touch

But parts of Vox hated this and denied his attachment to you

He wanted to smack himself for being weak and bending to his own obsessive cravings, but instead he smacks you instead to rid himself of feelings that could soften the sharp image he had created of himself

He craves your presence but despises the thought of you

But because he suppressed his fatherly feelings for you, they manifested into an abusive and obsessive addiction

He obsesses over every minuscule part of you and exposes it because he wants to know you but doesn’t want to get close enough for you to become a weakness to himself

Vox abuses you because he fears you most of all, he fears that the mere thought of you dating sends him into a blind rage or the thought of you getting hurt sends him into a deep panic

He wants to hold you close but parts of him want to smother you in his arms to make it so he doesn’t care for anyone anymore

So vox will always see you as a daughter in his mind no matter how much he tries to deny and suppress it

The only thing his denial does is make his feelings manifest into an abusive and obsessive relationship with you

He sees you as his daughter that he has always craved, and you see him as your abuser who will always be watching you

@hazbinhotelxreader @idontreallyexistyet @perkypeony @sparkleyfishies @buttercupfangirl @repostingmyfavs @lilyalone @the-faceless-bride @fandomaddict505 @corvid007 @rerarlo

[tqlepatiia]

the space between us | b. barnes & c. barton

masterlist | pt.1

summary: y/n struggles to heal after ending her turbulent relationship with bucky. in her quest for solace, she finds unexpected comfort in clint, whose genuine connection helps her reclaim her joy. as she navigates the complexities of moving on, bucky grapples with his regrets and the consequences of his actions. amid moments of laughter, heartfelt conversations, and emotional confrontations, y/n learns to embrace a new chapter in her life, ultimately discovering that it's okay to love again. can bucky come to terms with his choices and accept the happiness y/n deserves?

pairing: bucky barnes x reader x clint barton

warnings: angst, emotional distress, heartbreak, complex relationship dynamics, confrontations, mentions of mental health struggles, potential triggers related to emotional abuse, strong language, and themes of self-discovery and healing.

notes: hi lovelies! here is part 2, as requested by @idontcareforausernamesblog! <33 i can’t even tell you how emotional this one was to write – i may or may not have cried while putting this together (okay, i totally did 🥲). i poured my heart into this, so i really hope you all enjoy it as much as i did! thank you all so much for your love and patience. you guys are the best, and i can't wait to hear what you think! 💌

word count: 18.5k

Weeks had slipped by since you walked away from Bucky, and the silence in the compound seemed heavier with each passing day. Every corner of the place was filled with memories of laughter, warmth, and moments you wished you could forget. Now, all that remained was the thick air of unresolved feelings and the ache in your chest whenever you caught a glimpse of him in the halls. You had made the decision to leave, to break free from the endless cycle of hurt and frustration, but that hadn’t freed you from the weight of the heartbreak.

You pushed through the door of the training room, and the familiar smell of sweat and metal greeted you. Once, this room had been a place of comfort—a shared sanctuary for you and Bucky, filled with playful banter and moments when the world seemed to disappear. But now, it felt like a space you had to reclaim for yourself.

Standing in the middle of the room, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the way your muscles stretched as you prepared for the workout ahead. You had to stay present, focus on the strength you were trying to rebuild.

Hey, take a breath, doll. You’ve got this. I believe in you.

Bucky’s voice echoed in your mind, uninvited. His hands had once steadied you in this very room, his presence strong and reassuring.

You shook your head, trying to push the memory away. No. Not now. You couldn’t afford to get lost in the past again. But as you began to stretch, you could still feel that heaviness lingering in your chest. Why did everything with Bucky have to be so complicated? The lightness of being with Clint felt so different—like a breath of fresh air—but guilt washed over you at the thought of moving on so quickly. How could you enjoy this moment when Bucky was still reeling from the breakup?

The sound of the door opening broke the silence, and you turned to see Clint Barton walking in with his usual swagger. He was wearing a fitted black tank top and workout shorts, his smirk firmly in place as he spotted you. There was something about the way he carried himself, a lightness that seemed almost contagious, even when you were feeling your worst.

“Hey, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence!” he teased, though you noticed the slight hesitation in his voice. “You ready to get your butt handed to you today?”

You managed a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “More like I’m ready to kick your butt, Hawkeye.”

Clint chuckled, his smirk widening, but there was a brief flicker of something in his expression—an awareness, perhaps, that the teasing had to be balanced carefully. You could see he was trying to keep things light for you. “Big talk from someone who's fresh off a heartbreak courtesy of the Winter Soldier,” he quipped lightly, but his eyes softened immediately, watching for your reaction.

You let out a hollow laugh, not entirely sure if you found it funny or if it was just a defense mechanism. “Trust me, I’m ready to channel all of that into training.”

He nodded, respecting your space, and you squared up, hitting the pads with more force than necessary. The sound of your fists connecting with the pads echoed through the room, each punch a release of the pent-up frustration and pain that had been swirling inside you for weeks.

But even as you punched, the memories came back. You could see Bucky’s face, the way he looked at you during those quiet moments when it was just the two of you, when you believed that maybe everything would be okay.

His hands on yours, teaching you to throw a punch properly. His voice, low and soothing, telling you to relax.

Suddenly, you found yourself instinctively moving as if Bucky were right there beside you, guiding you through a complex maneuver. The memory hit hard, freezing you mid-punch, the muscle memory overwhelming. For a split second, everything blurred around you—the pads, the room, even Clint’s presence faded into the background.

“Y/N!” Clint’s voice broke through the fog, softer this time, and you blinked rapidly, coming back to the present. “Hey, focus up. You’ve got this. Just remember, it’s not a Hawkeye thing; it’s a you thing.”

You stumbled slightly, shaking your head as you regained your balance. “Right. Sorry,” you mumbled, the weight of that unspoken moment lingering between you.

“Just take a breath,” he said, his voice calm yet steady. “You’ve got this. Just find your rhythm. You’re doing great, I promise.”

With his reassurance, you continued to hit the pads, but the memory of Bucky’s touch lingered, a ghostly reminder of what you had lost. Each punch felt heavier now, laced with the weight of your heartache. You could almost feel the tightness in your throat, the sting behind your eyes, the tears you fought to hold back.

“Y/N!” Clint called out after a while, concern creeping into his voice. “You okay in there? Talk to me.”

You paused, chest heaving as you caught his eyes, the question lingering in the air between you. His worry was palpable, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet it fully. Instead, you swallowed hard and nodded, trying to shove down the emotions clawing their way to the surface. “Yeah,” you replied quickly, a little too quickly. “I'm fine. Let's just keep going.”

Clint gave you a skeptical look but didn't push. He nodded, stepping back to give you space as you squared up again, channeling everything into the next hit. This time, you weren’t just striking the pads—every punch felt like it was trying to break through something deeper.

The sound of your fists connecting with the pads echoed sharply in the room, each impact reverberating through your body, but doing little to quiet the storm inside you. As much as you wanted to stay in the present, your mind betrayed you, tugging you back into memories you'd been desperately avoiding.

Bucky's hand, steadying yours as you stood together, his voice low and teasing as he corrected your form. The way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, the weight of his gaze grounding you in ways nothing else could.

You grit your teeth, hitting harder. It wasn’t fair—the way those memories clung to you, even after everything that had happened. The harder you tried to push them away, the more vivid they became, like a fog that thickened the more you struggled against it. Every punch felt like a futile attempt to exorcise his ghost from your heart.

“Look at you go!” Clint called out after a while, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “At this rate, you’ll be gunning for my job in no time. Might have to start watching my back, huh?”

You smirked, catching your breath. “You’re just saying that because you’re scared I’ll take your place, Hawkeye.”

Clint gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. “Accuse me of treachery? I'm wounded.” But the playful look in his eyes quickly shifted to something more serious, his expression softening as he added, “But seriously—you're tougher than you think. I’m impressed.”

For a moment, his words sank in, and you felt a brief sense of pride warm your chest. But that warmth was fleeting, replaced by the all-too-familiar gnawing guilt that surfaced when your thoughts strayed too close to Bucky. You wanted to be strong. You wanted to believe Clint’s words. But a part of you still felt like you were breaking, piece by piece, under the weight of your past with him.

You slowed down, your punches growing weaker. “You’re slowing down,” Clint said, dropping the pads, stepping closer as your breath came in ragged gasps. “Hey, you alright?” he asked softly, his earlier lighthearted tone replaced with something deeper, something understanding.

You hesitated, your guard still up. “Yeah, just… tired,” you said, though you knew that wasn’t entirely true. The emotions bubbling just beneath the surface were harder to contain.

Clint didn’t push, but he also didn’t move away. He stood there, waiting, giving you the space to decide if you wanted to open up. And as the silence stretched between you, something in you shifted. Maybe it was the way he was just there, steady and unwavering, that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could let a little bit of the wall down.

“It’s hard,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “I thought leaving him would make it easier, but it hasn’t.”

As the words left your lips, a tightness gripped your throat, and you felt a sting in your eyes, the tears you had been holding back threatening to spill over. Clint’s expression shifted to one of concern, and before you could stop him, he reached out to wipe away a tear that had escaped down your cheek.

You flinched slightly at the touch, the tenderness foreign after the chaos of your relationship with Bucky. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Clint’s hand dropped back to his side, his expression softening with understanding. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s normal to feel this way.”

You looked down, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “It doesn’t feel like the right thing,” you whispered, the guilt gnawing at you again.

He stepped closer, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Hey, you're tougher than you give yourself credit for. It’s not gonna be easy, but you’ll get there. And don’t worry—I'm not going anywhere.” he said, sincerity lacing his words. In that moment, you realized that Clint’s presence felt like a refuge, a safe space where you could process your pain without the complexity that came with Bucky. You were seen and supported, free to be yourself as you navigated the emotions swirling inside you.

You felt a swell of gratitude for Clint in that moment, for his unwavering support and understanding. As the moment lingered, Clint reached over to grab a towel from the nearby bench, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed it to you. The brief contact sent an unexpected spark through you, and you looked up to see him watching you intently.

“Drink up, champ,” he said, bringing you a bottle of water next. “I’d hate to be the one who has to drag your unconscious ass around.” He held the bottle out with a playful grin, and as you took it, your fingers lingered for a moment, the connection both comforting and electric.

“Thanks, Clint. It means a lot to me,” you said, feeling the warmth of his kindness wrap around you like a comforting blanket.

After a moment, Clint jokingly flexed, striking a mock superhero pose. “How’s this for an emotional support system?” he quipped, his voice lightening the mood, but then he quickly pulled you into a side hug instead, wrapping his arm around your shoulders in a gesture that felt intimate yet effortless. 

You were caught off guard by the gesture but surprised at how comforting it felt. Clint’s warmth enveloped you, and for a moment, all the heaviness seemed to fade away. 

“I can’t wait to tell Bucky how weak you are,” you teased lightly, leaning into him, your heart feeling just a bit lighter.

“Hey! No one’s supposed to tell him about this!” Clint replied, mock-horrified, but you could see the glimmer of understanding in his eyes, the way he respected your process.

As you both stepped back, a small, quiet laugh escaped your lips, an unspoken understanding passing between you. There was a lightness that hadn’t been there before, a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

As you wrapped up your session, the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting golden rays through the windows of the training room. The way the light filtered through felt almost magical, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. It mirrored your emotional journey—where dark shadows of the past with Bucky began to fall away, replaced by the warm glow of hope and new beginnings. The suffocating atmosphere of the compound started to fade, replaced by the golden promise of something better.

With each passing moment, you felt the connection with Clint growing stronger.

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked, excitement bubbling up within you.

“Yeah, can’t wait,” he replied, matching your enthusiasm.

As you stepped out of the training room, you felt lighter than you had in weeks. Maybe moving on was not just about leaving Bucky behind but about embracing the friendships and connections that could flourish in their place.

Could it be that you were starting to feel something deeper for him?

The thought lingered as you shook your head slightly, trying to dismiss it, but it wouldn’t leave you. With Clint by your side, you felt a little more ready to face whatever came next. The potential for something new and beautiful was just beginning to blossom in your heart.

The training room buzzed with energy, sunlight streaming in through the high windows and illuminating the dust motes swirling lazily in the air. Over the past few weeks, you and Clint had settled into an easy rhythm; morning sessions had become the highlight of your day—an escape from the shadows that had lingered since your breakup with Bucky. There was something comforting in the routine, the laughter and sweat shared with Clint grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

But today felt different.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but a new energy crackled beneath the surface, a subtle charge that sent your heart racing as you warmed up. The anticipation buzzed just below your skin, and you found yourself glancing over at Clint more than usual, as if waiting for something—though you weren’t sure what.

Clint was already in the room, stretching and chatting casually with Natasha, who was overseeing the session. As you approached, Clint glanced over and shot you that familiar, easy grin. But this time, there was a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter—a mix of mischief and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Ready to get your butt kicked today?” he called, raising his eyebrows in playful challenge, his grin widening.

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes with mock indignation. “Please, I’m pretty sure I kicked your butt yesterday.”

He laughed, the sound rich and unforced, but there was a softness behind it that sent a thrill through you. “Only because I let you.” His tone was teasing, yet there was a sincerity that sent a thrill through you.

Natasha, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, caught your eye just as Clint spoke. Her knowing smile widened, and her eyebrow arched slightly, a hint of mischief dancing in her gaze as she observed the exchange. You felt a heat rise to your cheeks under her watchful eye, and you quickly looked away, trying to focus on Clint instead.

“Just don’t break anything, okay?” Natasha smirked, her amusement clear. “We need you both in one piece for the next mission.”

Clint flashed her a cheeky smile. “Don’t worry, Nat, I’ve got this under control.” Then he turned back to you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, Y/N, let’s see if you can back up that cocky attitude.”

You squared up against him, your body humming with adrenaline. “Bring it on,” you said, your voice steady, but beneath it all, your pulse raced.

The first few minutes were easy, familiar—the two of you moving in perfect sync, your bodies weaving in and out of each other’s reach. But as the sparring picked up, the playfulness began to fade, replaced by something sharper, something more visceral.

You feinted left and struck right, your fist connecting solidly with the pad Clint held. The impact sent a jolt of satisfaction through you, and Clint’s grin widened, a competitive glint flashing in his eyes. Yet as you ducked and weaved, your mind drifted to memories of Bucky—a stark reminder of how he once made you feel, how his presence had filled you with warmth and security. You could still recall the way he had looked at you, his gaze intense, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world. His laughter, a soothing balm in the chaos of your life, and the way he would hold you after training, his warmth wrapping around you like a protective shield.

But just as that warmth felt distant, it was replaced by a new feeling—one that had crept in gradually since you started spending time with Clint. You couldn’t deny that he was beginning to make you feel something different, something lighter. Yet with every laugh shared, with every teasing remark that fell from his lips, a pang of guilt twisted in your stomach. Wasn’t this betrayal? Could you truly allow yourself to enjoy his presence when the echoes of Bucky still lingered in your heart?

That guilt grew heavier as you continued to spar, and just as the memory threatened to pull you under, Clint’s voice broke through the haze, grounding you in the present. “Hey,” he said, his tone softer now, concern etched on his face as he noticed the shift in your demeanor. “You okay?”

You blinked, pushing the memories away, forcing a smile that felt a little too strained. “Yeah, just… got distracted for a second.” Your heart raced, both from the recollection and the need to reassure him.

“Okay,” he replied, his gaze still searching yours, lingering with a hint of worry. But there was something more in his eyes—an unspoken longing that tugged at your heart, a reminder that Clint was starting to fall for someone who was still healing. “Just remember, I’m here for you. And if you need a bow and arrow, I’ve got you covered.”

The simplicity and sincerity of his words nearly overwhelmed you. A lump formed in your throat, and you struggled to hold back the rush of emotions that threatened to spill over. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear those words, how badly you needed someone to offer their unwavering support, to promise you wouldn’t have to face your struggles alone. It struck a chord deep within you, bringing a mixture of relief and vulnerability that left you momentarily speechless.

“Thank you,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I really appreciate that.”

Clint nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “I mean it. You don’t have to go through this alone. Trust me, it’s way more fun with company—just ask Natasha about our last mission.”

As you continued to spar, the camaraderie and laughter returned, yet the undertones had shifted—an unspoken understanding lingering between you, blending the thrill of new beginnings with the weight of the past. With each interaction, there were subtle hints of Clint’s longing—how he lingered a moment too long after brushing past you, the way his gaze softened when you laughed, a silent acknowledgment of the connection growing between you. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Yet the emotional weight pressed down on you, the guilt that moved in tandem with the warmth you felt toward him. You were still healing, still piecing yourself together after the heartbreak, and the fear of moving on loomed over you like a dark cloud.

“Clint,” you said slowly, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. “I just… I don’t want to hurt you. You’re so… I don’t know how to explain it.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he stepped closer, the concern in his gaze deepening. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, the walls you’d built around your heart trembling under the weight of your admission. “I like being with you. You make me laugh, and I… I enjoy this, but I can’t help but feel like I’m betraying Bucky. Like every moment I spend here with you is a reminder that he’s gone, and I shouldn’t be moving on so fast.”

Clint’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his presence steadying you as you spoke. “Y/N, you’re not betraying him. Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting. It just means you’re letting yourself heal.”

His words resonated with you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt the pressure in your chest ease ever so slightly. “I just don’t know how to let go. I miss him, and I feel guilty for feeling… anything for you.”

He nodded, understanding evident in his eyes. “It’s okay to feel both—what you had with Bucky and what’s starting here. You don’t have to choose right now.”

The warmth in his gaze made your heart swell, and you realized how desperately you needed to hear those words, how vulnerable you felt in this moment of honesty. “Thank you, Clint,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

As you resumed your sparring, the atmosphere shifted, filled with a blend of laughter and shared understanding. With every moment together, you felt the possibility of something new blossoming between you—a chance to reclaim your heart, even as the past lingered in the shadows. The guilt of moving forward loomed like a cloud, but with Clint by your side, you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, it was okay to let yourself begin again.

The training session came to a close, both of you panting and grinning, the laughter still echoing in the air. As you gathered your things, the moment felt suspended, charged with the unspoken words that hovered between you.

Clint picked up his towel, tossing it over his shoulder as he stepped closer, and in that moment, your fingers brushed against each other—just a fleeting touch, but it sent a spark through you, igniting a warmth that spread through your chest.

You both paused, caught in the simplicity of that shared connection. His gaze held yours, the world around you fading away, and in that silence, the moment felt intimate, laden with promise.

Finally, Clint broke the tension with a soft smile, but it lingered in your mind long after he turned away, leaving you with an ache in your heart and a flutter of hope—a quiet promise of what could be.

The training facility hummed with energy, filled with the cacophony of grunts, laughter, and the occasional thud as bodies met pads or the mat. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and metal, the faint tang of iron lingering like a shadow over the vibrant activity. Bucky stood off to the side, leaning against the cool metal of the wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He tried to focus on the training routines of the other Avengers, but as he locked eyes on the sparring match taking place in the center of the room, the surrounding sounds faded into a dull roar, almost as if he were submerged underwater.

You were there, your movements fluid and confident as you trained with Clint. The way you laughed, the sparkle in your eyes, and the ease with which you both interacted made something in Bucky’s chest twist painfully. The laughter felt like shards of glass, cutting into him as he stood there, paralyzed by his own thoughts. Another memory surged—the day he had held you close after a tough mission, whispering reassurances as you broke down in his arms. “I'm not going to let anything happen to you,” he had promised, the sincerity in his voice echoing in his mind. You had smiled through your tears, your trust in him palpable. How could he have let it come to this? How could he have broken that trust?

As you sparred with Clint, Bucky's jaw clenched involuntarily. He watched Clint’s hand brush against your arm as he guided you through a new technique, and a surge of frustration coursed through him, coiling tightly in his gut. Bucky's heart sank as he watched you and Clint share playful jabs, the way your laughter intertwined with his. It was the kind of easy banter he used to have with you, and now it felt like a dagger twisting in his heart.

In that moment, a flash of memory surged through him—the night you both had curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket as you watched a movie. The comfort of your head resting on his shoulder, the warmth of your body against his. You had looked up at him, eyes sparkling, and said, “I'm really glad you're in my life, Bucky. You make everything better.” The simplicity of that moment haunted him, a stark reminder of the connection they had shared and the way he had let it slip away. Each joyous laugh felt like an echo bouncing off the walls, magnifying his isolation in a space that had once felt like home. The ache inside him grew sharper, a rawness he couldn't shake, a constant reminder of what he had lost.

As you lunged at Clint, your movements were fluid and precise, catching him off guard with a swift kick that sent him stumbling back. The sight made Bucky's fists clench at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to storm over there and drag you back to him. It wasn't just the fun you were having; it was the way Clint looked at you—like you were the center of his universe. That was supposed to be him.

As the echo of your laughter faded, Bucky felt the weight of his decisions press heavily on his shoulders. Memories crashed over him like waves—every shared moment, every late-night conversation filled with warmth and hope, the way your smile could brighten his darkest days. Now, he felt like a ghost haunting the remnants of what they once shared, a mere spectator to the happiness he'd pushed away.

“Look at them,” Natasha said, her voice low as she joined him by the wall, arms crossed similarly. Her gaze was fixed on the two of you, and though she spoke, the words felt muted to Bucky, lost in the haze of his spiraling thoughts. “They’ve got a real connection, don’t they?”

“Yeah, it looks that way,” he replied, his voice tight, his jaw clenched even more. The world around him dimmed further, the laughter and shouts of the training session fading into a distant hum. All he could see was you, the light in your eyes brightening with each playful exchange, while shadows loomed over him, reminding him of his failures.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch?” Natasha asked, glancing sideways at him. “You know, if you want to talk to her—”

“Talk?” Bucky interrupted, his tone sharper than he intended. “What good would that do now? I pushed her away.” The weight of those words hung heavily in the air between them, and he felt a pang of shame wash over him. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, the metal of his bionic arm groaning slightly under the pressure, a physical manifestation of the regret that threatened to consume him.

“Look, Bucky,” Natasha said softly, her gaze penetrating. “You need to face what you did. You’re not the only one hurting.”

He exhaled heavily, frustration mixing with regret as he pushed off from the wall. “I know that, Nat. But what’s the point? She’s moving on. I can’t just waltz back in and act like everything is fine.”

“Maybe it’s not about waltzing back in,” Natasha countered, her voice firm but gentle. “Maybe it’s about acknowledging what went wrong and making it right. You can’t keep running from your feelings.”

Bucky watched as you and Clint exchanged another playful jab, your eyes sparkling with joy. That joy had been a rare sight during the last weeks of your relationship. All the arguments, the anger, the hurt—Bucky had convinced himself that pushing you away was for the best, that he was protecting you from himself. But now, seeing you smile, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d made a terrible mistake.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting memories flood back. The nights spent watching movies curled up on the couch, sharing popcorn and stolen kisses; the quiet mornings where you’d both linger in bed, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence; the way you’d laugh at his terrible jokes, lighting up even the darkest corners of his mind. Those moments felt like echoes of a life that was now slipping away from him, fading like the soft morning light.

He was alone. The thought echoed in his mind, drowning out everything else. His heart ached as memories flooded back—the warmth of your smile, the sound of your laughter, the comfort of your presence. Moments that now felt like distant dreams, lost in a haze of regret.

“Do you ever think about how you might’ve messed up?” Natasha asked, her tone shifting. “I get that you thought you were protecting her, but did you really think pushing her away was the answer?”

“Of course I do,” Bucky muttered bitterly, shaking his head. “I thought… I thought it was better this way. I thought she’d be safer without me.”

“Safer? Or happier?” Natasha challenged, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not some monster, Bucky. You deserve to be happy, too.”

He let out a heavy sigh, frustration and regret coiling tightly in his chest as he pushed off from the wall. “I get that, Nat. But what’s the use? She’s already moving on. I can’t just show up like nothing happened... like I’m not the guy who screwed it all up.”

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She still cares, even if she’s trying to move on. But you need to take that step,” Natasha urged, her voice cutting through his reverie. “Before it’s too late.”

The fight in her words ignited something within him, stirring a long-buried determination. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe there was still hope. He took a deep breath, steeling himself against the fear that threatened to consume him.

“Okay,” he said, voice steadying. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Good,” Natasha replied, her smile returning. “Just be honest. It’s all you can do.”

With newfound determination coursing through him, he took a step toward you, a surge of hope igniting within him. But as he approached, doubt clawed at his insides. The laughter rang in his ears, and with each step forward, it felt as if an invisible force was pulling him back, reminding him of the pain he had caused. He hesitated, caught in the gravity of the moment, every step feeling heavier than the last.

He could almost reach out, touch your shoulder, feel the warmth radiating from you. But the closer he got, the more overwhelming the memories became. The arguments, the tears—each one a reminder of how he had pushed you away. His heart raced as he faltered, a sickening churn in his stomach.

Just a few more steps, he thought, but then he froze. The distance felt insurmountable, filled with all the unsaid words and the weight of his own mistakes. His chest tightened, and he swallowed hard, feeling the suffocating grip of uncertainty tighten around him.

As he stood there, the weight of regret crashing down, he felt the edges of a discarded photo under his foot—one of you both at a picnic, the sun illuminating your smiles. He didn’t need to look at it to remember the way you had leaned against him, a comfortable weight that felt like home. Watching the connection between you and Clint grow stronger, he felt the pain of realization wash over him. He had pushed you away, believing it was for the best, but now he was left standing alone, haunted by the choices he had made. The thought of losing you completely loomed over him like a dark cloud, threatening to swallow him whole.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered to himself, his heart heavy with the weight of his decision. “Not now.”

With a final glance toward you and Clint, laughter still ringing in the air, Bucky turned away. The cool air hit him like a slap, stark against the emotional turmoil churning inside him. Each step felt like a retreat, a surrender to the pain that had become all too familiar.

As he walked away, he could almost feel Natasha’s disappointment echoing in his mind, a reminder of the support he had failed to embrace. He imagined her rallying the others, attempting to keep the team together in the face of his absence. But how could they be whole without him? Each one of them had their struggles, their scars, and he felt the weight of the burden he was leaving behind.

The thought twisted like a knife in his gut. It wasn’t just about him anymore; it was about the team, the friends he had fought alongside, the ones who had stood by him through thick and thin. They needed him, even if he felt like he was more of a liability than an asset right now.

A deep sense of dread settled over him. The consequences of his decision would echo beyond just his heart; they would ripple through the very fabric of the Avengers. Each step he took away from the training room felt like a step further from the family he had fought so hard to protect. The thought of them continuing to thrive, to train, to bond without him gnawed at him, a reminder of the fragility of connection.

As he stepped outside, the cool air brushed against his skin, but the chill within him ran deeper. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was not just leaving behind a relationship, but a part of himself. The determination he felt just moments ago was now shadowed by despair, and the hope he had clung to began to feel like a cruel illusion.

What if I never find my way back? he thought, feeling the burden of his choice weigh heavier than before.

Maybe some things were meant to be lost forever.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the compound as Y/N stepped outside. The late afternoon air was filled with the distant sounds of training—clanging metal, the rhythmic thud of feet against the ground, punctuated by laughter and the occasional shout of encouragement. But today, the ambiance felt heavier for her, the vibrant colors around her muted under the weight of her emotions. She found herself wandering to the garden, a peaceful escape from the chaos of her thoughts, the fragrant scent of blooming flowers wrapping around her like a comforting blanket.

As she strolled along the winding path lined with vibrant flowers, she caught sight of Natasha sitting on a bench, a sketchbook balanced on her lap. The faint sound of rustling leaves above accompanied the soft scratching of pencil against paper. Natasha’s eyes were focused, but she looked up as Y/N approached, a knowing smile spreading across her face.

“Hey,” Natasha greeted, setting the pencil down. “You look like you could use some company.”

Y/N nodded, her heart heavy with unspoken words. She shifted her weight, biting her lip as memories of Bucky flooded her mind—his laughter echoing in her ears, the warmth of his hand intertwined with hers. She could almost feel the sun on her face as they sat together at the lake, splashing water at each other, his laughter ringing like music. That day had felt endless, each moment dripping with joy, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief as he pulled her in for a playful kiss, whispering, “You know you’ll always be my favorite partner in crime.” But now those memories were tinged with pain, the ache of what they had lost haunting her every thought. “Yeah, I guess I could.” Her voice was soft, laced with uncertainty, as the once-bright flowers around her seemed to dull in color, mirroring her mood.

“Want to talk?” Natasha asked, her tone straightforward as she patted the space beside her on the bench. She opened her arms slightly, inviting Y/N into her embrace. “I can put the sketchbook away for a while if you need to vent. Just don’t expect me to draw you a superhero.”

Y/N chuckled lightly, recalling a time when Natasha had accidentally spilled paint all over her favorite outfit while trying to teach her how to paint. “Remember when you tried to teach me how to paint? And I ended up looking like a color palette instead?”

Natasha smirked, nudging Y/N’s shoulder. “I was trying to bring out your inner artist, not your inner disaster.”

“More like my inner disaster,” Y/N replied, shaking her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “But I still have that painting you made—it’s one of my favorites.”

“Only because I painted over the disaster,” Natasha teased, a playful glint in her eyes. “Now, enough reminiscing about your ‘artistic’ talents. What’s really on your mind?”

With a small sigh, Y/N sank down next to Natasha, feeling the warmth radiating from her friend and the sun’s rays on her skin. Natasha wrapped an arm around Y/N's shoulders, drawing her closer. Y/N inhaled deeply, the air fragrant with lavender and jasmine, familiar scents that reminded her of happier times with Bucky. But now they felt bittersweet, a cruel reminder of love tangled with loss. “It’s just… everything is so complicated right now.” The words felt heavy on her tongue, weighted down by the confusion swirling in her mind.

“Complicated how?” Natasha replied, tilting her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. Y/N could see the sunlight reflecting in Natasha’s eyes, illuminating her concern and drawing her into the moment.

Y/N hesitated, avoiding Natasha’s gaze, staring at the ground where the petals of the flowers seemed to wilt under the weight of her thoughts. “It’s Bucky. After everything, I thought moving on would be easier, but it’s just not. I feel guilty for even trying to be happy without him.” Her heart raced as she spoke, a mix of fear and longing. What if he needed her? What if he couldn’t find his way without her? But the reality of their situation hung over her like a dark cloud, suffocating and relentless.

“Listen,” Natasha said softly, leaning in, her grip tightening reassuringly on Y/N's shoulder. “You’re allowed to feel conflicted. You can care about Clint and still process what happened with Bucky. It doesn’t mean you didn’t love him, or that you’re moving on too fast.” The strength in Natasha’s voice offered a glimmer of hope, yet Y/N felt the shadows of guilt creeping back in.

Y/N leaned back against the bench, her shoulders tense as she stared up at the sky, now clouding over slightly. “I just want to feel happy again without all this guilt weighing me down. I want to enjoy my life and my relationships without constantly thinking about him.” But how could she? Bucky’s memory loomed over her like an uninvited guest, always there, always watching. The fun she had with Clint felt tainted, overshadowed by thoughts of Bucky—would he ever truly be gone from her heart?

“Y/N,” Natasha said gently, her expression growing serious. “I get it. There was someone I cared about once, too. Someone I didn’t think I could move on from. I was stuck in the past, thinking that letting go meant I didn’t care enough. But it doesn’t. The memories don’t disappear, and neither does what you felt.” Her voice was thick with emotion, and Y/N felt the sincerity in her words.

“What happened?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued, wanting to understand how Natasha had navigated her own pain.

Natasha took a deep breath, her gaze distant as she reflected on the past. “I lost him on a mission. For a while, it felt like I was carrying a ghost around. Took me meeting someone new to realize... it's okay to let it change. To honor what was, without letting it define everything after.” She paused, her voice steady but softer. “It wasn’t easy. Guilt can mess you up, make you think being happy again is wrong. But moving on doesn’t mean forgetting. It just means you’re healing.” Her words resonated deeply, and Y/N could see the wisdom in Natasha’s experience, the vulnerability that made her even more relatable.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of hope ignite within her. “But what if moving on means losing those memories forever? I can’t help but feel that by choosing to embrace something new with Clint, I’m erasing everything I had with Bucky.”

“Those memories are part of who you are,” Natasha assured her, squeezing Y/N's hand gently. “They’ll always be there, shaping you, reminding you of the love you shared. But you need to let that love evolve. It’s not about forgetting—it’s about honoring. And only you can decide how.” The warmth of Natasha’s touch grounded Y/N, reminding her that she didn’t have to face this alone.

Y/N bit her lip, her heart racing with conflicting emotions. “It just feels so overwhelming sometimes. I remember the sweet moments with Bucky, like that day at the lake when we laughed until we cried. His laughter was like music, and the way he kissed my forehead made me feel safe. I thought that feeling would last forever.” But now, even that memory felt like a dagger, reminding her of the distance that had crept between them.

“Those moments were real,” Natasha said gently. “They shaped you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t create new ones with Clint. Different doesn’t mean less meaningful. And it’s not betraying Bucky’s memory.” Natasha’s steady gaze and calm demeanor anchored Y/N, making her feel understood.

As they spoke, a figure approached the garden, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she caught a glimpse of Clint. He paused at the entrance, watching them with a soft smile. The way his eyes sparkled made her stomach flutter, a warm anticipation blossoming in her chest. It was as if he could sense the shift in her emotions, the way her smile widened as she talked about the future.

Y/N turned her attention back to Natasha, her heart still racing at the sight of Clint. “You’re right. I’ve been so focused on what I lost that I haven’t thought about what I could gain. I can picture Clint and me going on a spontaneous road trip—just driving with no destination in mind, singing along to our favorite songs at the top of our lungs. I miss that carefree feeling.” Her voice began to brighten, a smile tugging at her lips as she imagined the adventure.

Clint stepped closer, curiosity etched on his face. He could hear snippets of their conversation, and a warm smile spread across his lips as he caught Y/N’s gaze. It felt as if he was a part of the moment, not just an observer. There was something about her smile that drew him in, igniting a flicker of hope in his chest.

“See?” Natasha smirked, her eyes glinting. “That doesn’t sound so bad. You deserve to enjoy those moments—without guilt. It’s okay to have hope again.”

Feeling lighter, Y/N smiled as she picked a flower from a nearby bush, twirling it in her fingers. “I think I’m ready to embrace that, to let go of the past and let it blossom into something new.” The flower felt vibrant and alive in her grasp, a symbol of her desire to grow and move forward.

“Good,” Natasha said, a hint of pride in her voice as she pulled Y/N into a brief but firm hug. “You’ve got this. And remember—you don’t have to do it alone.”

As they sat there together, Y/N felt the weight of her guilt begin to lift, the warmth of Natasha’s support wrapping around her like a protective shield. She glanced at the flowers surrounding them, their colors brightening under the sun, mirroring the lightness blossoming in her heart.

But just as her heart began to fill with hope, a fleeting moment of doubt whispered in her mind. What if she wasn’t ready? What if moving on hurt more than it healed? Yet, as she looked into Natasha’s eyes, she felt a flicker of determination ignite within her. Maybe healing was a process, a winding path filled with both joy and uncertainty, and that was okay.

“Hey, should we go see who’s losing in training?” Natasha asked, an impish smile dancing on her lips. “I’ll bet Clint’s probably tripped over his own feet again. I can’t wait to see him blame it on ‘tech issues.’”

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that felt foreign yet freeing. “I’ll take that bet! But let’s not tell him I was rooting for him. He’ll never let me live it down.”

Clint, catching their laughter, couldn’t help but smile wider as he stepped closer, curiosity piqued. “You guys are plotting against me again, aren’t you?”

“Just discussing your amazing skills on the training floor,” Natasha replied, winking at Y/N.

“Ah, I see how it is. Just wait until I show you some new moves. You’ll be begging me for pointers—and then I might just consider it,” Clint teased, his eyes bright with mischief.

“Good luck with that,” Y/N shot back, her heart warming at the playful exchange. “I’m pretty sure I’d rather face a dozen missions than risk getting tangled in your ‘expert’ moves.”

“Smart choice!” Natasha laughed, nudging Y/N playfully as they stood up, brushing off the bits of dirt from the bench.

With renewed hope, Y/N took Natasha’s hand, feeling the warmth of their friendship radiate between them. Together, they would forge ahead, ready to find their own path filled with laughter, love, and endless possibilities. And as she glanced at Clint, feeling the way her heart fluttered, she couldn’t help but think that maybe this journey was just beginning.

The days melted into weeks, each one blending into the next like brush strokes on a canvas. With every sunrise, Y/N found herself stepping further away from the shadows of her past with Bucky. The initial pangs of guilt began to fade, replaced by a gentle warmth that blossomed each time she was with Clint. Yet, even in those moments of joy, a flicker of uncertainty lingered—thoughts of Bucky would occasionally creep in, reminding her of the pain and confusion she had felt. It was a peculiar sensation, like a fresh breeze sweeping through a room that had long been closed off, but also like a faint echo of an unresolved melody. She recalled how Bucky's unpredictability had taught her the importance of setting boundaries and prioritizing her own happiness, lessons she was slowly beginning to embrace.

On a particularly crisp afternoon, Y/N found herself in the common room, sunlight streaming through the expansive windows, casting golden rays across the furniture and warming her skin with its gentle touch. Outside, birds chirped cheerfully in the trees, their songs weaving a harmonious backdrop that made the atmosphere feel alive. The light danced on the floor, creating playful patterns that invited her in. Clint was sprawled on the couch, arms behind his head, looking utterly relaxed as he flipped through a comic book. The sound of pages turning filled the air, punctuated by the soft rustle of the paper and Clint's occasional chuckle. His easygoing demeanor was infectious, and she found herself smiling just at the sight of him, her heart fluttering as his laughter lit up the room.

“Hey, you,” Clint said, glancing up at her, his eyes brightening as a wide grin spread across his face, revealing that charming dimple. “Come check this out! They’re doing a crossover with all the Avengers—like we need more drama in our lives, right?” He waved the comic, excitement threading through his voice.

“Really?” she asked, intrigued. “What’s it about?”

“Some ridiculous time travel mess. You know how these things go. But honestly? It’s hilarious,” he replied, turning the comic toward her. Y/N crossed the room, plopping down beside him, the fabric of the couch cool and inviting beneath her. As she settled in, she brushed her shoulder against his, feeling the warmth of his skin, a tiny spark that sent a rush of warmth through her.

“Okay, but I think they totally got your character all wrong,” Clint teased, nudging her shoulder playfully. “I mean, seriously, Y/N would never wear those ridiculous spandex shorts from that one comic. Remember when you called them your ‘definitely-not-for-fighting’ shorts? Classic.”

Y/N laughed so hard she snorted, her eyes widening in mock horror. “Oh my god! Yes! That was traumatizing!” She tried to regain her composure, but the image of Clint in a ridiculous costume was too much. “And how you insisted on wearing that awful Hawaiian shirt during the mission? Talk about a fashion faux pas! What were you thinking? You looked like a tourist on a budget!”

Clint grinned, feigning indignation, his smile widening into a playful smirk. “That shirt was a classic! Plus, it totally distracted the bad guys. They were too busy laughing to notice us!”

“Right, because nothing says ‘serious superhero’ like a floral print!” she shot back, laughing as his eyes sparkled with mischief, making him beam even wider. As she leaned in closer to get a better look at the comic, their knees brushed against each other, and she felt a jolt of electricity at the contact.

“Admit it, you’re just jealous that you don’t have my sense of style,” Clint joked, his grin growing even more infectious.

“Oh please, I’d rather wear a potato sack than join you in that sartorial disaster,” she countered, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress her smile. “But if you keep wearing those shirts, I might just start a ‘Clint Barton Fashion Police’ page.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed, shaking his head, his whole face lighting up with joy. “You’re just trying to get me to wear it again! Next time, I’ll have to add a matching visor for the full effect.”

“Please, just spare me the vision of you in a visor,” Y/N replied, wiping away a mock tear of laughter. “You’d scare all the villains away with that look alone.”

As their conversation flowed, light and easy, Y/N felt herself relaxing more and more, though the remnants of her past tugged at her. She enjoyed Clint’s company, his humor a welcome distraction, but with each shared joke, she was reminded of what she was trying to move past. The laughter was like a balm, soothing but not quite enough to erase the scars Bucky had left behind.

In a rare moment of quiet, Y/N found herself reflecting on how different she felt with Clint compared to her time with Bucky. With Clint, there was no tension, no weight of unresolved issues hanging in the air. Instead, she felt light and free, able to laugh without the fear of being hurt. Bucky had always been a tumultuous storm, full of passion but also chaos that often left her feeling unsettled. Clint, in contrast, was like a warm breeze on a sunny day—comforting and steady. It was this realization that made her smile deepen; there was something special about the way Clint made her feel, something that reminded her of the joy that life could bring.

“Okay, but seriously,” Clint said, his playful tone shifting slightly, as if sensing a change in the atmosphere. “If you could have any ice cream flavor, what would it be?”

Y/N chuckled, the levity returning to her voice. “I’d probably have to go with chocolate chip cookie dough. Classic.”

“Solid choice,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Though I’d argue mint chocolate chip is superior. What’s wrong with you, Y/N? Did you hit your head?”

“Now you’re just trying to start a debate!” she teased, pretending to think deeply. “But if you’re that passionate about it, I’m game! Just know I’m going to choose the most disgusting flavors imaginable!”

Clint leaned in closer, lowering his voice playfully. “I’ll be your personal happiness assistant. Laughter guaranteed! Just remember, if you pick any terrible flavors, I’m not responsible for the consequences.”

“Deal!” she laughed, her heart swelling with warmth. “But if you want me to choose first, you have to promise not to make a face when I pick something weird,” she replied, nudging him playfully.

“Only if you promise to at least try to keep it edible!” he shot back, grinning. “I still have nightmares about that time you thought pickle-flavored ice cream sounded good!”

Y/N burst into laughter, remembering the incident. “Okay, okay, I promise no pickles!” Y/N felt a bubble of excitement rise within her, the prospect of those silly plans igniting a spark of hope. “It’ll be a deal! Just think of all the crazy memories we could make together—like that time you nearly dropped your ice cream all over your face because you were trying to juggle it like a pro!”

Clint chuckled, shaking his head in mock embarrassment. “Hey, that was a strategic move! You just weren’t ready for my unparalleled talent.”

“Yeah, right,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “But seriously, you know I wouldn’t mind a little extra protection during our ice cream adventures. You never know when a rogue villain might swoop in and try to steal our dessert.”

“Don’t worry,” Clint replied, puffing out his chest dramatically. “I’ll fend off any bad guys trying to interrupt our ice cream dates! I’m basically a superhero with a spoon.” His mock seriousness made her laugh even more.

As they talked, Clint glanced at his ice cream, then turned to her with a playful grin. “You know what? You should definitely take the last bite of mine. I insist!” He held out the bowl, a cheeky smile on his face.

“Clint, you know I can’t just take your last bite!” she protested, giggling at his insistence.

“Too late! It’s already yours,” he said with mock authority, nudging her shoulder. “Besides, I can always get more. You’re the one who deserves the last scoop.” His gesture, so small yet meaningful, made her heart flutter.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his antics. “You really think I’m that special, huh? Just wait until you see my terrible choices! But I appreciate it, Clint. It means a lot.”

“Always,” he said, his expression softening as he listened intently. “You deserve to feel free and light. Life’s too short to be weighed down by all that baggage. And besides,” he added with a teasing smirk, “the world could use a little more of that laughter of yours.”

“Thanks, Clint,” she said softly, her heart full. “I’m really glad we’re doing this. It feels good to just sit here and laugh again.”

As they continued to talk about their dreams and plans, Y/N felt a warmth enveloping her, like a cozy blanket after a tumultuous journey. She paused to savor the simplicity of the moment, the laughter they shared lingering in her mind, a sweet melody that brightened the fading day. The soft rustle of leaves outside and the distant chirping of birds blended harmoniously with their conversation, creating a serene atmosphere that mirrored the deepening connection between them.

They laughed together, the moment feeling light and effortless, like a gentle breeze tousling their hair. Yet, even amid the joy, Y/N felt a flicker of hesitation. Memories of Bucky hovered at the edges of her thoughts, a reminder of the chaos he had once brought into her life, and she couldn’t shake the weight of those memories.

Yet here with Clint, she felt grounded, a warmth settling within her that she had thought was lost forever. There was something profoundly different about this connection, and it filled her with both hope and uncertainty. As the sun began to set, casting a soft glow across the room, Y/N found herself captivated by the depth of her feelings.

As the laughter faded into a comfortable stillness, they exchanged shy smiles, lingering looks that hinted at deeper feelings simmering beneath the surface, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them suspended in this moment of quiet intimacy.

“I can’t wait to see what else is in store for us,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper yet filled with sincerity.

“Neither can I,” Clint replied softly, his gaze unwavering, solidifying the connection they were building. “But hey, whatever it is, I promise you won’t have to face it alone. Just think of me as your personal archer sidekick.”

Y/N felt a surge of hope at his words, her heart swelling with warmth. Maybe this was the beginning of something beautiful—something worth pursuing. And as she glanced at Clint, she couldn't help but wonder what adventures lay ahead, each filled with laughter, warmth, and maybe a touch of romance.

The atmosphere in the compound was thick with an unshakeable tension as Y/N walked through the familiar hallways. The air felt cool against her skin, a chill that seeped into her bones, reminding her of the weight she carried. With each step, her boots echoed softly against the polished floor, amplifying the silence that surrounded her. Memories of Bucky flooded her mind—flashes of their shared moments, the warmth of his embrace, and the laughter that had once filled the air between them. But those memories now felt like a double-edged sword, cutting deep into the wounds that had yet to heal.

As she turned a corner, her heart raced at the prospect of crossing paths with Bucky. The faint hum of fluorescent lights above was the only sound, adding to the electric tension in the air. She had been avoiding him since the day she walked away, choosing instead to immerse herself in her new life with Clint, where each day felt a little brighter. With Clint, she found solace in their shared interests, the way they could joke about the absurdity of their lives, and how he made her smile effortlessly. They spent evenings watching movies, curled up on the couch, or training together, the playful banter weaving a bond she hadn’t thought possible after Bucky. But today, something felt different. The air was charged, almost electric, and she could sense the inevitable encounter lingering just out of reach.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N barely registered the footsteps approaching until she was brought back to reality by a familiar voice. “Y/N.”

Her heart sank as she turned to face Bucky, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability that made her stomach twist. He stood a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, the faint scent of worn fabric and cologne wafting toward her. His posture screamed both confidence and uncertainty, muscles tensed and jaw clenched. The sight of him sent a rush of emotions surging through her, and she fought to maintain her composure, acutely aware of the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides.

“Bucky,” she acknowledged, her voice steady despite the whirlwind inside her. But even as she spoke, she felt her heart racing, her breath hitching in her throat.

There was a heavy pause as they sized each other up, the silence stretching between them like an invisible thread. Bucky’s blue eyes searched hers, and for a moment, she felt the warmth that had always existed between them. But it was fleeting, quickly overshadowed by the reality of their fractured relationship. She noticed the way his brow furrowed, a muscle twitching in his jaw as if he were grappling with his own internal struggle. Then she saw it—a glimmer of unshed tears pooling in his eyes, a desperate attempt to mask his vulnerability.

“Can we talk?” Bucky asked, his tone serious but laced with an undercurrent of desperation. His shoulders shifted slightly, as if bracing himself for the impact of her response.

Y/N hesitated, torn between the desire to hear him out and the instinct to shield herself from further pain. Memories of happier times together flickered through her mind—Bucky laughing with her at the small things, the way his touch felt like home, and the day he gifted her a delicate silver bracelet, intricately designed with intertwined hearts. The bracelet had felt like a promise of forever, a tangible piece of their bond. Now, it lay heavy on her wrist, a reminder of the warmth and joy they had once shared, juxtaposed with the bitterness of their current situation.

After a long moment of silence, she nodded reluctantly, and they moved to a quieter corner of the compound, away from prying eyes. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls as the weight of unspoken words hung in the air like smoke. The faint scent of coffee lingered, a reminder of long nights spent talking and laughing together. As they entered the space, a chill crept through the air, heightening the tension that wrapped around them. Bucky ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit she recognized all too well, and she couldn’t help but notice how his hands shook slightly, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a long time,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t realize how much I was pushing you away until it was too late.”

Another pause settled over them, heavy with the weight of his confession. The silence felt charged, each second stretching into eternity as Y/N felt her heart racing. She could see the flicker of hope in his eyes, but doubt clawed at her insides. Would this conversation lead to the closure they both needed, or would it unravel everything she had worked so hard to rebuild?

Y/N felt her chest tighten at his words, the air heavy with unexpressed feelings. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to reach out, to comfort him, but the memory of their last confrontation loomed over them like a dark cloud, reminding her of the pain that had driven her to this point. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, the bracelet glinting in the low light, as if mocking her. “You shut me out, Bucky. I was right there, trying to help you, but every time I reached out, you pushed me away like I was some kind of burden,” she said, her voice wavering as she fought against the urge to cry.

He looked down, guilt washing over his features, and she noticed the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides, a futile attempt to regain control. “I was scared, Y/N. I didn’t want to drag you into my darkness. But I see now how wrong I was. I should’ve let you in.” Another silence stretched between them, suffocating in its intensity. Bucky’s voice broke the stillness again, but the words felt fragile, weighed down by their history. “I—I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N hesitated, feeling the weight of his words crash over her. Could he really change? She recalled the way Clint had been there for her, offering support and kindness when Bucky had turned cold. It was a glimmer of hope that seemed so fragile, yet so necessary. “Bucky, it’s not that simple. I can’t keep going back to the way things were. I deserve more than that.” The thought of evenings spent cooking together with Clint, sharing dreams over a glass of wine, felt like a stark contrast to the lonely nights she had endured waiting for Bucky to let her in.

“Why?” Bucky asked, desperation creeping into his voice. “Why can’t we just try again?”

“Because I’m scared,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared that the Bucky I love—the one who laughs and makes me feel safe—will be overshadowed by the demons that haunt you. I can’t lose you again, not to that darkness.” The weight of her fears hung between them, heavy and suffocating. “I can’t keep waiting for you to change. I’ve started to find happiness again, and it’s with someone who sees me for who I am. I can’t lose that just to go back to what we had.”

The room felt like it was closing in around them, the air thick with tension. Bucky’s face fell, confusion and hurt etching deeper lines across his brow. “You’re seeing someone else?” His voice was barely above a whisper, the weight of disbelief heavy in the air. Y/N noticed how he seemed to physically deflate, shoulders slumping as if she had dealt him a physical blow. She could see the tears glistening in his eyes, and for a moment, she felt her heart fracture at the sight.

“It’s not like that,” she began, but the words caught in her throat. How could she explain to him that Clint had become a source of light in her life, filling the void Bucky had left? That being with Clint was helping her heal, even as it brought her guilt? “Clint has been there for me when you weren’t. I can’t keep pretending everything is okay when it’s not.”

“Clint,” he repeated, the name falling from his lips like a curse. “You’re telling me you’ve moved on? Found someone who makes you happy? And I—” He cut himself off, swallowing hard as he struggled to keep his composure, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. Another heavy silence enveloped them, each second stretching unbearably long as Y/N felt the weight of his gaze, the hurt behind it palpable.

“I pushed you away. I made you feel like you had to move on without me,” His voice broke, and Y/N felt her own heart fracture at the sound. Tears brimmed in his eyes, and she could see the struggle etched across his face, the internal conflict battling within him. It felt like a knife twisting in her gut as the reality of their situation settled between them, sharp and unyielding.

“I should have fought harder for you,” Bucky said, his voice raw with emotion. “I should have told you how much you meant to me instead of hiding behind my fears. What if I had let you in? What if I hadn’t pushed you away?” Each ‘what if’ echoed in the silence, amplifying the regret that hung between them like a thick fog.

Y/N felt tears welling in her eyes as she met his gaze. “What if I had been stronger? What if I had stood by you instead of running away? I wish I could have been the person you needed, but I felt so helpless watching you spiral. I didn’t know how to help you without losing myself in the process.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, and she could see the pain of regret mirrored in his eyes. “I’d do it all differently. I wouldn’t let my demons dictate our future. I wanted to believe we could have it all—together.” The sincerity in his voice struck a deep chord within her, but the scars of the past were still fresh, and doubt gnawed at her heart.

“I need to let you go,” she whispered, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. She felt the world tilt, the weight of the moment pressing against her. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing with the pain of loss, a stark reminder of everything they had shared and everything that had been lost.

Bucky’s eyes widened, and she could see the flicker of hope extinguished in an instant. “No, wait,” he implored, taking a step toward her, but she felt an invisible barrier keeping them apart, a chasm formed by their shared pain and regrets.

“Bucky, please,” she said, her voice breaking. “You have to understand—this isn’t just about you or me. It’s about healing, finding ourselves again. I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t be the reason you fall apart.”

His breath hitched, and she could see the struggle etched across his face. “But what if we faced our demons together? What if we stood side by side against all this?” He took another step forward, but the distance felt insurmountable.

“Together?” Y/N echoed, feeling a rush of conflicting emotions. “What if I can’t do that? What if I get lost in your darkness again?”

“I can’t lose you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he reached out, but she sensed the chasm between them widening. The pain in his eyes was palpable, and for a moment, she faltered, wanting to reach out and comfort him, to tell him that everything would be okay.

But deep down, she knew that wasn’t the truth. Their journey had taken them to this crossroads, and while she wanted to cling to the hope of reconciliation, she also had to acknowledge the reality that lay ahead. They needed to heal, both of them, before they could even think about rebuilding what they once had.

As she turned to leave, the echo of her footsteps seemed to reverberate through the silence, each step a reminder of the distance that had grown between them. Behind her, Bucky stood frozen, the weight of her words settling heavily upon him. She could feel the loss hanging in the air like a fog, suffocating and thick.

Once outside, the cold wind hit her face, contrasting sharply with the warmth of the memories she carried. She fought against the tears that threatened to spill over, the ache in her heart like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. But as she walked away, she hesitated, feeling the pull to turn back, to run back into his arms and forget the pain that had driven them apart.

Maybe I made a mistake, she thought, feeling her heart break with each step. What if he really can change? What if we could find our way back? But she fought against the urge to look back, knowing that the pain of their past was too great. Instead, she took a deep breath, grounding herself in the cold air and the reality of her choice. She needed to prioritize her own healing, even if it meant leaving the one person she loved most behind.

Inside, Bucky felt a storm brewing of his own. He stood there, feeling the cracks in his heart widen as he replayed her words over and over in his mind. The warmth they had shared felt like a distant memory now, eclipsed by the painful reality of their situation. He wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all. Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he made no move to wipe them away, allowing his vulnerability to wash over him like a tidal wave.

He sank to the floor, the cool surface grounding him as he thought of all the moments he had taken for granted—how he had let her slip through his fingers while battling his own demons. The echoes of laughter, the secrets they shared, the time they had built a blanket fort, giggling like children as they reminisced about their favorite childhood memories, were now distant echoes of a life he might never reclaim.

He felt a flicker of hope—a desire to change, to confront his demons, even if it meant doing so alone. As he sat there, he realized that Y/N might be the catalyst he needed to finally face the truth about himself.

As the door closed behind her, he felt the weight of shared pain press upon him, an unspoken acknowledgment of their shattered connection. With a heavy heart, he whispered into the emptiness, “I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.”

Meanwhile, Y/N stepped out into the cool night, her heart pounding in her chest. She paused for a moment, her breath catching as she fought back tears. I wish things could have been different, Bucky, she thought, a deep sorrow settling in her bones. You deserve happiness, too. With that, she turned and walked away, each step feeling like a farewell, both hopeful and heartbreaking, leaving a trail of unresolved love in her wake.

The sun had already set, leaving the sky painted in shades of deep blue and purple as Y/N prepared for the evening ahead. She stood before the mirror, smoothing down her dress and trying to shake off the unease that lingered just beneath the surface. The night felt different—like a crossroads between her past with Bucky and the possibility of something new with Clint.

Clint had become her anchor in the weeks following her painful separation from Bucky, offering a lifeline of support wrapped in humor and light-hearted moments. But even though she was beginning to enjoy his company in a deeper way, guilt still tugged at her, reminding her of what she had with Bucky. Am I really ready for this? she wondered. Is it okay to move on?

The contrast between the past and the present was sharp. She could still recall the nights she and Bucky would sit together in the quiet of their shared moments, his warmth a constant comfort. Those memories lingered, refusing to fade. But the way Clint made her laugh and forget—if only for a while—was something she hadn’t realized she needed so desperately. Maybe I deserve to feel good again.

She inhaled deeply and headed out to meet Clint.

When Y/N arrived at their meeting spot, she found Clint leaning casually against his motorcycle, a playful grin already spreading across his face. “Damn, Y/N,” he said, his eyes sweeping over her, lingering just a second longer than usual. “Looking good! Did you dress up just to impress me, or do I just get lucky today?”

Y/N laughed, her nerves melting away a little under his warm gaze. How does he do that? she thought, admiring his effortless charm. “I could say the same about you,” she teased, taking note of his clean, effortless style. “You even wore a jacket that doesn’t have a tear in it this time.”

Clint grinned, stepping forward and offering his hand as she approached. His fingers brushed against hers, lingering there, and the warmth of his skin sent a subtle jolt through her. “I aim to impress,” he joked, pulling her in for a quick hug. The moment his arms wrapped around her, Y/N couldn’t help but notice how solid and grounding his touch felt. Before she could dwell on it, he gestured dramatically toward the bike. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. He’s ridiculous, but I kind of love that. “You and this motorcycle... what is it with guys and their bikes?”

“Oh, it’s not just the bike. It’s the freedom, the wind in your hair,” Clint said, imitating a dramatic, over-the-top voice. “You’ll understand when you hop on. Just try not to scream too loud, okay?”

Laughing, Y/N accepted the helmet he offered and climbed onto the bike behind him. She hesitated for a split second before placing her hands on his waist, feeling the warmth of his body through his jacket. This feels... natural, she realized, her fingers curling slightly as she held onto him. “Just try not to get us killed, okay?”

“No promises,” Clint said with a wink over his shoulder before revving the engine. “But if we survive, dinner’s on me!”

The ride through the city was exhilarating. The wind whipped past them, cool against Y/N’s cheeks, and she instinctively tightened her grip on Clint’s waist as they weaved through the streets. This feels good, she thought, the rush of adrenaline mingling with the comfort of being so close to him. She could feel his muscles tense and relax under her hands, the steady thrum of the engine beneath them only amplifying the intimacy of the moment. I didn’t realize how much I missed just feeling... alive.

She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation of the evening air on her skin, the scents of the city filling her senses—distant hints of food carts, freshly cut grass from nearby parks, and the cool, earthy smell of the coming night. It was all so vivid, so different from the numbness she had felt in the weeks after her breakup. Maybe I am ready for this. For something new.

As they reached the restaurant, Clint pulled up to a stop in front of a small, charming spot tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It was one of those hidden gems that didn’t boast a flashy exterior, but the tantalizing aroma of roasted garlic, fresh herbs, and simmering sauces wafting out into the street promised something special.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Clint said as he helped her off the bike, his hands lingering a little longer on her waist than necessary. The heat from his palms seared through the thin fabric of her dress, and she found comfort in its warmth. “Because I’m starving, and we’re about to go all out tonight. No holding back. I’m thinking all-you-can-eat.”

Inside, the restaurant had a cozy, intimate vibe. Wooden tables with flickering candles created a warm glow, and the soft murmur of conversation and clinking cutlery filled the space. Y/N could immediately smell freshly baked bread and something sweet—perhaps a dessert cooling in the kitchen. The atmosphere was soothing, like a quiet oasis tucked away from the noise of the city.

I never would’ve come here on my own, she thought as she took in the ambiance. But being with Clint made her feel safe, like it was okay to let her guard down. I don’t have to be on edge all the time. Not with him.

As they sat down and scanned the menu, Clint’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Alright, here’s the deal,” he said, leaning across the table, his fingers lightly brushing against hers as he propped his chin up on his hand. The touch was so casual, yet it sent a spark through Y/N’s skin. “We each pick something totally random off the menu, and the other person has to try it. No backing out. It’ll be like culinary Russian roulette. What do you say?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’re trying to trick me into eating something weird, aren’t you?”

“Me? Never!” Clint said, holding his hands up innocently before breaking into a grin. “Alright, fine, maybe just a little. But seriously, where’s your sense of adventure?”

She pretended to think it over, tapping her chin dramatically. “Fine, but if you pick something absolutely disgusting, I get to embarrass you in front of everyone by making you dance in the middle of the street.”

Clint laughed, his hand nudging her playfully. The small touch was enough to make her heart race. “Deal! But trust me, I’ve got excellent taste. Just ask my mom—she still thinks I’m the coolest.”

As they placed their orders—Clint sneakily choosing something he wouldn’t reveal—Y/N couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. There was something easy and fun about being with Clint, a refreshing contrast to the complicated feelings she had been harboring for Bucky. It’s different with Clint. Lighter. Maybe I need that right now. It was moments like this—silly, light-hearted, and spontaneous—that made her realize how much she had been missing this kind of carefree connection.

When the food arrived, Clint dramatically unveiled his choice for her—a strange-looking appetizer that resembled tiny fried balls with an odd green sauce on the side. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What is that?”

“It’s a mystery,” Clint said, smirking. “But it’s supposed to be good. Go on, take a bite.”

She hesitated for a second, then bravely speared one with her fork, eyeing him warily before popping it into her mouth. Surprisingly, the taste was rich and savory, with a hint of tanginess from the sauce.

“Okay, not bad,” she admitted, trying to hide her impressed expression. “Your taste buds are safe... for now.”

Clint grinned triumphantly. “Told you! Now, it’s my turn.”

Y/N slyly handed over her selection—a bizarrely named dish that turned out to be a spicy concoction of flavors. She watched as Clint took a bite, his face going from curious to mildly alarmed as the spice hit him.

“Oh my god,” he coughed, reaching for his water. “You’re trying to kill me!”

Y/N laughed, leaning back in her chair, pleased with herself. In that moment, the world around them seemed to blur, and it was just the two of them—his laughter mingling with hers, filling the air with warmth. It felt so easy, so natural, like they were the only ones in the room.

As the meal progressed, Clint leaned in slightly, his expression turning more serious. “Hey, if you ever need help with anything, just let me know. I mean it. Even if it’s something trivial, like picking out a new dress or tackling a cooking disaster.” 

Y/N raised an eyebrow, touched. “You’d really help me pick out a dress?”

“Absolutely! I’d even give you my unfiltered opinion,” Clint said, grinning. “I’ll make sure you look stunning.” 

She couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Okay, deal. But only if you promise to not be too harsh.”

“I’ll try to hold back my brutally honest critiques,” he teased, but she could see the sincerity in his eyes. It made her heart swell a little more, reminding her how different this was from her past. 

As they continued their playful banter, Y/N found herself completely lost in Clint’s eyes, the way they sparkled with mischief and sincerity. Time faded away, and it was just them—two people sharing a moment of joy, laughter echoing softly around them. She felt weightless, lost in the magic of the evening.

When they finally finished eating, Clint suggested they take a stroll. The evening air was crisp, wrapping around them like a gentle embrace as they stepped outside. 

“Ready for round two?” Clint asked, his tone playful as he pulled out his jacket and offered it to her when the cool breeze brushed against her shoulders. “Can’t have you freezing on me out here.”

“Always,” she replied, smiling as she slipped into it. The jacket smelled like him—fresh, with a hint of cologne—and she found comfort in its warmth. 

They wandered through the streets, the lights twinkling like stars above them, laughter punctuating the air as they playfully debated what dessert to get. In that moment, Y/N felt something inside her shift, a blossoming hope for the future she hadn’t dared to imagine before.

Clint paused in front of a small ice cream shop, the bright neon sign flickering invitingly. “How about we try every flavor they have?” he proposed, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Y/N chuckled, unable to resist his enthusiasm. “You’re on.”

As they stepped inside, the world outside faded, enveloping them in a bubble of shared laughter and carefree joy. They decided to sample a few flavors together, joking about how they were both going to have brain freezes from the sugar overload.

“Okay, what about this one?” Clint held up a vibrant green cone, its color reminiscent of a cartoonish slime. “It’s avocado mint. Let’s see if it’s as weird as it sounds.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. “Why not? Let’s do it!”

As they took a bite, Y/N’s laughter bubbled over at the absurdity of it all, their faces morphing into comedic expressions of surprise. The taste was unexpectedly refreshing, and for a moment, they were just two friends indulging in the silliness of life, their earlier worries pushed aside.

“See? Delicious!” Clint declared, grinning. “Next round—chocolate covered bacon!” 

“Absolutely not!” she shot back, laughing at the idea. “That’s just cruel.”

As they stepped back outside, the cool air hit her cheeks, invigorating and fresh. Y/N glanced at Clint, a wave of warmth washing over her. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she was truly moving forward. Maybe this was what healing felt like—a gradual shedding of the past, replaced by the sweet possibility of new beginnings.

They continued their stroll, talking about everything and nothing, the laughter flowing freely. When the spontaneous dance moment arrived, she couldn’t help but sway to the music spilling out of a nearby bar, letting the beat move her as Clint joined in, twirling her around with a carefree smile. It was liberating to forget the heaviness of the past, even if just for a moment.

Their laughter echoed in the night air, and in that moment, the rest of the world melted away. She felt weightless, lost in the magic of the evening, every silly dance move reinforcing their connection. With each twirl, she felt herself falling further into this new reality—a reality that didn’t include Bucky’s shadow looming over her.

As they danced under the streetlights, surrounded by the shimmering glow of the city, Y/N felt alive—truly alive. 

When the song came to an end, Clint pulled her back toward him, their bodies moving in sync, and she caught the glint of mischief in his eyes. “See? Not so bad, right?”

“Okay, okay, you win,” she said breathlessly, their faces just inches apart. “This is actually fun.”

Clint pulled her closer, his arm wrapping around her waist as they both caught their breath. For a moment, neither of them said anything, their faces just inches apart, eyes locked. Y/N’s pulse quickened, her heart pounding against her ribs, not from the dancing but from the charged atmosphere between them. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, the way his hand rested just above the small of her back, holding her close.

Is this it? she wondered, her heart racing. Is this where it all changes?

Clint’s expression softened, his thumb lightly brushing her cheek. “That’s what friends are for, right?” he said, though his tone held a note of something deeper. “To remind you there’s still good stuff out there. Fun stuff. New adventures waiting for us.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Y/N felt like she could let go of the pain she’d been holding onto for so long. Clint was right—there was still good out there. Maybe it’s okay to lean into it.

But just as she was about to lean closer, a familiar tune floated through the air from a nearby bar—one that echoed with memories of evenings spent with Bucky, laughter shared under the stars, and moments that felt unbreakable. Her breath caught, and a flicker of panic surged through her, reminding her of the love she had lost.

Clint’s eyes flickered with concern as he noticed the change in her expression. “Hey,” he murmured, stepping closer and gently squeezing her hand. “What’s wrong?”

Do I tell him? The thought weighed heavily on her, the fear of opening up clawing at her heart. She hesitated, caught between the memories that haunted her and the promise of something new standing right in front of her. “I—”

But before she could finish, Clint’s other hand came up to cup her face, grounding her in the moment. His thumb brushed along her jawline, and the tenderness of his touch cut through the haze of confusion swirling in her mind. This is different, she thought. This feels safe.

Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, they both leaned in at the same time, their lips meeting softly. The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but quickly deepened into something more profound. The warmth of his mouth against hers ignited a spark, a jolt of electricity that coursed through her, shattering the barriers she had built around her heart.

In that instant, Y/N was flooded with emotions—warmth, joy, and an exhilarating sense of possibility. It was different from the kiss she’d shared with Bucky, lighter yet full of promise. For the first time in ages, she wasn’t thinking about the past or what she had lost; she was simply present, lost in the sweetness of the moment. This could be the beginning, she thought, allowing herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could move on.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, Y/N felt a warmth blossom in her chest. The world around them faded back in, but it was different now. She could still hear that haunting tune in the distance, but it felt more like a memory than a weight holding her back.

Clint’s smile was wide and genuine, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile back. “Wow,” he breathed, his eyes sparkling. “I think I like this adventure.”

Y/N chuckled, her heart swelling with warmth. “Yeah, me too,” she admitted, the joy of the evening spilling over in waves. As they walked hand in hand back to the motorcycle, she reflected on the night—the playful banter, the laughter, the shared food experiments, the silly dance in the street, and now the sweet kiss. It was a night that felt like a glimpse of a future she hadn’t dared to imagine before. One where she could move on, heal, and even laugh again.

Clint’s voice broke through her thoughts, filled with playful excitement. “So, what do you say? Next week, we go skydiving? Or maybe we sign up for a cooking class and see who can create the most disastrous dish?”

Y/N laughed, the idea filling her with a sense of adventure. “I don’t think I could handle the pressure of cooking with you. But I’m definitely down for skydiving!”

“Awesome! It’s a date,” Clint said, and the way he smiled at her made her heart flutter.

As Clint handed her his jacket once more, wrapping it around her shoulders to shield her from the cool night air, Y/N realized that maybe she was ready. Not just for a fresh start, but for the possibility of something more.

Later that evening, after returning to Avengers Tower, they found themselves in Clint’s room, the atmosphere was filled with a cozy warmth as they settled onto his bed, wrapped up in a blanket together. Clint had brought a movie—a classic rom-com that made her chuckle even before it started. 

As the film played, Y/N couldn’t help but lean her head against Clint’s shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. She took a moment to appreciate how easy it felt to be near him, the way his presence made her heart feel light. “I’m glad we did this,” she murmured, glancing up at him.

“Me too,” he said softly, turning to her with a warm smile. “I needed this. You’re way more fun than I anticipated. I might have to keep you around for the next mission.”

“Oh, so you’re saying I exceeded your expectations?” she teased, nudging him playfully.

“Definitely,” he shot back, a grin spreading across his face. “I mean, who else would try avocado mint ice cream with me?”

“Right? It’s a culinary adventure!” she exclaimed, laughing at the memory.

Suddenly, Clint turned serious, his expression softening. “Y/N, listen… you deserve all the good things in this world. If there’s anything I can do to help bring a little of that into your life, you know I’m in.”

His sincerity melted any lingering doubts in her heart. “Thank you, Clint. That means a lot.”

As the movie played on, they shared a dessert—an enormous slice of chocolate cake that Clint insisted they split. The indulgence quickly turned into a playful food fight, bits of frosting smeared on their faces as they both burst into fits of laughter, the lightness of their antics echoing through the room.

“Okay, that’s it! You’re going down!” Clint declared, grabbing a napkin and wiping it across her cheek, only to smear more frosting onto her nose.

Y/N retaliated, lunging for him and finding her hands covered in chocolate icing. “You asked for it!” she squealed, launching a dollop at him. Their laughter filled the room, the sound of joy echoing in the corners as they continued to playfully toss bits of cake at each other.

Wrapped up in a blanket, with remnants of frosting in their hair and laughter ringing in the air, Y/N felt an overwhelming wave of happiness crash over her. This was the kind of moment she had been yearning for—cozy, fun, and carefree.

As the credits rolled, Y/N turned to him, feeling a rush of affection and excitement. “So, we’re officially a thing now, right?” she asked playfully, her heart racing at the thought.

Clint’s smile widened, lighting up his entire face. “Oh, it’s definitely a thing—like a fun, silly, adventurous thing. You know, the best kind.”

“Good,” she said, the sweetness of the moment washing over her like a wave. “I can’t wait for our next adventure, partner.”

They settled back into the blanket, and as Y/N snuggled closer to Clint, she realized this was just the beginning. She had found a spark of happiness again, one that promised laughter, adventures, and the warmth of a heart slowly healing. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they fell into an easy conversation, filled with dreams of the future and the promise of more sweet moments to come.

The first light of dawn crept through the horizon, painting the sky in hues of soft pink and gold. The world was still waking up, the distant hum of city life beginning to stir—a car horn blaring, the faint chatter of early risers, and the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze enveloping everything in a warm embrace. It was a time for new beginnings, a time to reflect, and for Y/N, it was a moment filled with fragile beauty that felt almost sacred.

The sunrise served as a vivid backdrop for their romantic connection, symbolizing hope and the promise of brighter days ahead. Clint had suggested a sunrise picnic, a sweet surprise he planned the night before. They gathered blankets and snacks, a cozy assortment that felt simple yet perfect against the backdrop of the awakening day. Now, as they sat together on the blanket spread across the grassy hilltop overlooking the city, the peaceful silence wrapped around them like a comforting cocoon.

Y/N watched as Clint poured two cups of coffee, the rich, earthy aroma rising in the cool morning air, mingling with the crisp scent of dew-kissed grass. The steam swirled up in delicate tendrils, dancing like wisps of clouds in the pale blue sky. As he handed her a cup, their fingers brushed against each other, sending a gentle spark through her. “Just how you like it—black and strong, like my sense of humor,” he said, his voice warm, and she felt her heart flutter at the familiarity.

“Thanks,” she replied, taking a sip and savoring the warmth that spread through her, grounding her in the present. “You really do know how to make the perfect cup of coffee.” She smiled, teasing him a little.

“Thanks, but don’t get too used to it. I might just decide to open my own coffee shop, and then I’ll charge you extra for my expertise,” Clint quipped, a mock-serious expression on his face.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You’d be terrible at it. I can already see you trying to convince customers that your way of making coffee is the only way, complete with charts and graphs.”

“Hey! I’d make a fantastic barista,” he shot back, crossing his arms dramatically. “I’m talking about a coffee that could knock your socks off. The kind that has you wide awake and ready to conquer the world—unless you think you can sneak the last bite of my food, of course.”

Y/N giggled as she leaned forward, their bodies instinctively leaning toward each other as she took a bite from the croissant he offered. “Okay, not bad,” she admitted, leaning back with a satisfied smile. “You might just be getting the hang of this.”

“Ha! Told you! Next up, I’ll make you the perfect breakfast sandwich,” Clint declared, puffing out his chest in mock pride. “But first, you have to promise not to laugh when I inevitably drop the egg again.”

“Deal!” she agreed, smirking, knowing full well the last time he attempted to cook eggs, it ended with them splattered across the kitchen floor. “But I can’t promise I won’t record it for future evidence.”

“You’re the worst,” he said, shaking his head but unable to hide his smile.

The two of them continued to enjoy their breakfast, occasionally feeding each other bites of croissant, the closeness of their bodies radiating warmth as they shared the blanket. Each lingering touch, whether it was a brush of hands or a nudge of shoulders, deepened the sweetness of their connection. The intimacy of the moment enveloped them, and Y/N felt a warmth blossoming in her chest, each shared laugh drawing them closer together.

Yet, amidst the laughter and warmth, the thought of Bucky lingered, a storm cloud threatening to overshadow her fragile happiness. As they shared a tender moment, basking in the warmth of the rising sun and the blossoming feelings between them, Y/N felt a shift in the atmosphere. She instinctively turned her head, sensing they weren’t alone anymore. In the distance, silhouetted against the backdrop of the dawn, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure—Bucky.

He stood a distance away, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched as he watched the scene unfold before him. The sharp intake of breath she took filled her lungs with the cool morning air, and her heart began to race, pounding against her ribcage like a caged bird desperate to escape. Had he seen her with Clint? What did he think? She had been so consumed with her own healing and the romantic relationship with Clint that she hadn’t considered the weight of what Bucky might feel as he watched her move on.

The shadows cast by Bucky stretched long and dark across the ground, a stark contrast to the vibrant sunrise that illuminated Y/N and Clint’s intimate moment. Those shadows whispered of unresolved pain and regret, memories of what had been and what could never be again. Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as he watched them, a sharp pain twisting in his chest. The laughter that flowed freely from Y/N and Clint felt like daggers, each one piercing through the shield he had tried to build around his heart. He could see the way they leaned into each other, the comfort and warmth they shared so effortlessly, and it twisted something deep inside him—a mix of longing, regret, and heartache.

He fought back tears, anger and sorrow battling for dominance as he watched her smile at Clint, a smile that used to belong to him. A memory flashed in his mind: the last time they had shared a moment like this, the last time he had held her close and whispered promises of forever into her hair. Now, it felt like a cruel joke, the universe laughing at his expense as he stood on the sidelines, a mere shadow of the love they had once shared.

Bucky’s hands clenched into fists in his pockets, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to hold back the emotion threatening to spill over. As he looked at Y/N, their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the world around them faded into silence. The intensity of their lingering gaze was filled with unspoken words—each look a reminder of what they once had and the deep-seated pain of their current reality. Her heart ached at the sight of him, the raw vulnerability in his eyes pulling at the remnants of the love they had shared. I miss you, it whispered in the silence, but she couldn’t voice it.

As she held his gaze, Y/N felt the gravity of their shared history weighing heavily between them. It was a tension that spoke of longing and regret, each glance filled with memories of laughter and warmth, now overshadowed by the bittersweet reality of their separation. She was caught in the moment, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her as Bucky’s expression shifted, his eyes reflecting the storm brewing in his heart. The depth of his feelings crashed over him like a wave, and he instinctively gripped his heart, as if to hold back the ache threatening to consume him. His breath came in shaky gasps, and he looked down, avoiding her gaze, the weight of his regret pressing heavily on his chest. What have I done? It echoed in his mind, a haunting realization that cut deeper than any wound.

Clint followed her gaze, sensing the shift in her demeanor. “Do you want me to—?”

“No,” she interrupted softly, shaking her head. She needed to face this on her own. It was time for closure, not just for Bucky but for herself as well. With a deep breath, she rose to her feet, her heart pounding as she walked toward him.

As she approached, the morning light illuminated the contours of Bucky’s face, revealing the shadows of regret etched into his features. He looked older, wearier, as if the burden of his actions weighed heavily upon him. When their eyes met, a flood of emotions surged through her—anger, hurt, but above all, a profound sense of sorrow for what they had lost.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with unspoken pain. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Yeah,” she replied, her heart racing as the words tumbled from her lips. It felt like a confession, a statement of truth that hung between them like a fragile thread. “I’ve been spending time with Clint. He’s been really good to me.”

Bucky flinched, his expression shifting as he struggled to contain the tumult of emotions swirling within him. “I can see that.”

The tension was palpable, the air heavy with unspoken words. Y/N took a deep breath, fighting back the urge to retreat. “Bucky, I want to talk. I think we need to.”

His gaze softened, but a flicker of vulnerability crossed his face as he shook his head. “I don’t want to make this harder for you. You’ve moved on, and I respect that. I just—” He paused, swallowing hard, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you were gone. It’s like I’m walking around without a part of me.”

Her heart cracked open at his admission, a rush of empathy washing over her. “I tried, Bucky. I tried to hold on, to make it work. But it was suffocating. You were pushing me away when all I wanted was to be there for you.”

He nodded, his expression pained as he looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “I know. I was afraid… afraid of losing you, and in trying to protect you, I only ended up pushing you further away.”

The ache in her chest intensified, tears pooling in her eyes as she grappled with the reality of their situation. “I loved you, Bucky. I still do in a way. But I couldn’t stay trapped in that cycle of pain. I had to choose myself.”

“I understand,” he said, his voice cracking as he finally met her gaze again. “You deserve to be happy, and I want that for you. I just… I didn’t expect it to hurt this much seeing you with someone else.”

Y/N felt the heat of her past rush over her, a whirlwind of memories that clashed against her resolve. It’s so hard to let go of the memories, of the love we once had. But I can’t deny what I have now. She couldn’t ignore the part of her that still longed for him, for the love they once shared. But she had a new life now, one where Clint stood beside her, his unwavering support grounding her.

“It hurts me too,” she admitted, her voice trembling as the tears spilled over, tracing warm trails down her cheeks. “But I need to move forward. I want to build a life that makes me happy—with Clint.”

Bucky’s expression crumbled, and in that moment, all the walls he had built around his heart came crashing down. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you or lose you. You mean more to me than I can say.”

The sorrow in his eyes mirrored her own, and she felt a swell of compassion rise within her. “Bucky, you didn’t lose me because you didn’t care. You lost me because you didn’t know how to let me in. I’m with Clint now, and it’s important to me that you know that.”

He swallowed hard, nodding slowly, as if her words were sinking in. “I don’t want to hold you back, but it’s so damn hard to see you happy with someone else. I keep replaying it in my mind—if I had just done things differently, maybe it would be us.”

“Bucky, you can’t keep punishing yourself for what happened. We both made mistakes,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears that continued to flow. “You need to forgive yourself to heal, just as I’m learning to forgive you.”

A moment of silence enveloped them, heavy with the weight of their shared history. Bucky’s shoulders trembled as he finally allowed himself to feel the depth of his emotions, the realization of what he had lost weighing heavily on his heart. “I wish things could have been different.”

“So do I,” she replied softly, feeling a profound sense of loss for the relationship they had shared. “But I can’t go back. I have to keep moving forward.”

His gaze dropped to the ground, a mixture of regret and resignation clouding his features. “I’ll always care about you, Y/N. You need to know that, even if things are different now.”

“I know,” she said, her heart aching for him. “And I’ll always care about you too. But we both need to find our own paths now.”

Bucky nodded slowly, the shadows in his expression deepening as he fought to reconcile the reality of her happiness with the ache of his own loss. “Then I won’t stand in your way anymore,” he said, voice heavy with resignation.

Y/N took a step back, feeling the distance between them grow, both physically and emotionally. The sun continued to rise, bathing the world in golden light, and she felt her heart hardening with resolve. I am finding it, Bucky. With Clint. The words hung in the air, their weight settling like a heavy fog around them. She felt a wave of determination wash over her, solidifying her decision to choose her own happiness. The scent of morning air filled her lungs, revitalizing her spirit. This is my moment.

Before she turned away, Y/N lingered for a moment, taking in the sight of Bucky—his familiar features etched with a sorrow that cut her deeply. Silence enveloped them, a bittersweet goodbye heavy in the air as they reflected on the memories they once shared. Each heartbeat echoed the time lost, the love that had slipped through their fingers like sand. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she knew that this moment would stay with her, a reminder of the love that had shaped her.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” she finally whispered, the words trembling on her lips. The farewell felt monumental, and as she spoke, the weight of their shared past hung heavily between them. She turned slowly, each step away from him feeling like a small fracture in her heart.

As she walked back toward Clint, she could feel his presence just behind her, ready to support her in whatever way she needed. She took a deep breath, the scent of morning air filling her lungs, revitalizing her spirit. This is my moment.

As she approached Clint, he looked up, concern etched on his face. “Y/N, are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with worry, the protective instinct radiating from him like a shield.

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile through her tears. “I’m okay now.”

Clint stepped forward, pulling her into a warm embrace. She felt the safety of his arms wrap around her, the comfort of knowing she had made the right choice. He tucked another loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing softly against her skin as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her temple. In that moment, she allowed herself to lean into him, to feel the strength of his presence soothing the raw edges of her heart.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?” he murmured into her hair, his voice low and sincere. The words wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, and Y/N felt the weight of her resolve solidify within her. She was choosing happiness, and she wouldn’t let the past dictate her future any longer.

“Remember that time we tried to make pancakes?” she asked, a smile creeping onto her face as she recalled their hilarious failure in the kitchen.

Clint laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “How could I forget? We ended up with a pancake that looked like a map of the United States. I still think it was more of a work of art than breakfast.”

Y/N giggled, the sound ringing through the air like music, lifting the remnants of heaviness from her heart. “I think you just wanted to avoid cleaning up the kitchen afterward.”

“Guilty as charged,” he admitted with a playful grin. “But at least we made it fun, right?”

“Definitely,” she agreed, her heart swelling with affection for him. “We should try making pancakes again—this time, maybe without the ‘artistic interpretation.’”

“Deal,” Clint said, nudging her shoulder affectionately. “But if they end up looking like that map again, I’m holding you responsible. And let’s be honest—you’re definitely stealing the last bite anyway,” he teased, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Hey, it’s a strategic move! I have to make sure you don’t take it for yourself!” she shot back, feigning innocence.

Clint shook his head with a laugh, leaning in closer as he fed her a piece of the pastry with a playful grin. “Here, you have to try this next. It’s not burnt this time.”

As she took a bite, the sweet flavor melted in her mouth, and they shared a moment of playful arguing over who made the best breakfast. “Honestly, if we combine our skills, we might just be able to avoid another kitchen disaster,” she teased, winking at him.

“Or we could always order in,” Clint countered with a laugh, the lightness of the moment wrapping around them like a warm blanket.

Together, they watched the sun continue to rise, marking the beginning of a new chapter—a future filled with hope, healing, and the promise of love. Y/N held onto Clint tightly, their bodies leaning into each other as the warmth of the sun enveloped them, and the fire of new possibilities ignited in her heart. She was ready to embrace the light, ready to step into the dawn of a new day, no longer haunted by shadows of the past.

[kyokutsu-sama]

omg, this was a random thought that popped into my head😭william with an s/o, who during her period, gets the WORST anger issues? im talking she gets annoyed if someone breathes wrong😭how would he react to her random sobbing and extreme clinginess during all that? thank you!!!

A/n: Hi!!! When I read the request I just find it funny cause this is so me when I'm on my period😭🤭 I hope you like it.

I really felt sorry for William after writing this one😭

_____________________________

As we all know, William is a very kind and very patient man. It's almost impossible to get this man out of his peaceful state (unless it's something really bad). He begins to notice that for a few days now, she has been acting strangely towards him and everyone in the room. She who used to be as respected as the captain and so nice to everyone, was now shouting at everyone and without any patience. William already suspected that she was going through that typical monthly phase where she just wanted everyone to disappear but at the same time would cry if that happened. He decided not to confront her with that, out of fear, since she was looking like a wild animal on the loose. He couldn't help but stare at her when she was acting like that, towards someone from Golden Dawn. He even tried to get closer to her to interfere but when he saw her looking at him with that dark look, he hesitated. "WHAT'S WRONG WILLIAM? WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME? DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL ME?!" She shouted at him The captain just stood there, with wide eyes and an expression like "Honey... I was just passing by... I didn't do anything wrong🥲" It was then that some of the members reported situations like this to him. "Captain, with all due respect but she's going crazy! Everyone in the division is shaking because of the way she's yelling at everyone and looking like she's going to kill someone!!"Klaus said, completely terrified, to the captain who assured him that he would solve everything She spent the whole day walking here and there, hurriedly, while doing her duties within the division, keeping an ill-tempered look on her face, which made the members of the division afraid to approach her, since even breathing seemed like a problem for her. That attitudes, created small murmurs among the members in the corridors of the HQ, wondering what could have made her like that. At the end of the day, she used to go to William to see each other, as they rarely saw each other during the day because of work, but that day it was he who went to see her, especially after she shouted at him and avoided him when he tried to interfere when he saw her scolding another member when he dropped some papers on the floor that were for the captain. William slowly opened the bedroom door, peeking inside and saw her sitting on the bed, with her knees to her chest and crying. A scene that broke his heart. William approached and she quickly threw herself at him, hugging him tightly and he held her, caressing her back with his hands, while she sobbed. He sat with her on his lap, listening to her lament for being so mean to him and others. "I'm sorry for yelling at you William, I'm really an idiot, I'm horrible and I don't deserve you..." She sobbed, clutching the fabric of his uniform "Don't say those things, my love. You're important and I really like you and so does everyone here, do you hear? I love you so much." He whispered, wiping her tears while she was still there, clinging to him and apologizing He always stayed by her side while she calmed down, he couldn't help but smile when she gave him a load of kisses and hugs. He thought she was cute even when she was mad, although the sudden change in mood was still leaving him a little confused. "William, will you forgive me?" She asked for the thousandth time "Yes, I forgive you," He sighed. "I know this time of the month makes you more sensitive and ...a little angrier but it's normal and I'm always here, whenever you need me, okay?" He moved her hair away from her face, kissing her forehead "Oh Will, you're so cute I think I'm going to cry again..." She said in a tearful voice and he chuckled "You don't need to cry anymore. I'm always here." He gave her a peck and hugged her This man is a sweetheart❤️

[lovelybeesthings]

Stupid bunny ch 1? 2 3

Coriolanus Snow x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Y/n Ashwood was the daughter of a very powerful family that was a part of the structure of the Capito, the Ashwoods had been one of the few honorable families to survive the falls of the most powerful families. Y/N was a very sweet innocent girl who never had to survive by eating raw meat or scraps and didn't have to fight for a scholarship to attend the Academy.

Alongside her wealth she was a beautiful girl with long lashes, rosy cheeks Doe eyes, and plum lips, her hair was in bubble braids or in long curls her hair was silky smooth by the touch of it and her looks were ones of a saint, y/n was looked at as a white soft rabbit or a doll to some as her life seemed to be in the hands of her family.

As Y/n attended the academy it was inevitable she was popular she had the looks and the Brain which amazed her peers how can a girl who looks like a saint and fragile to touch look at such hordes of sights? Y/n had known of the Snow family as they were one of a higher class but close to the bottom she knew exactly of Coriolanus Snow his long curly locks and his charming looks.

There was also one more reason Y/n Ashwood knew of Coriolanus Snow she had been his fiance since the moment they were both been born the Ashwoods and The snows had set the engagement in motion when y/n was 7 years old she met snow on one occasion and it was breath taking she still remembers it the way he had walked toward her as she hid behind her mother he took her hand and kissed it introducing himself.

*Present day*

As our days with our distracts pass soon to the games I notice how Coriolanus looks at his distract trains Lucy grey I’ve seen her girl from distract 12 I see the way she build skinny pretty from her distracts condition but to me there’s no hope a performer in an hunt I say shell die in the first 10 minutes but the way I catch his eyes longing at hers every moment at her*

My trainee was a boy named Reaper his build was strong and what I’ve read he had even attacked a peacekeeper which betters the odds.

“Coriolanus!” *I say as i see him alone for once passing by as I say his name he turns his head as his eyes lock to mine* “y/n?” *I walk closer* “I’ve missed you it’s been so long it just seems your time has been consumed so much into the game you know my family’s gonna. Host another dinner party you should come!” *I say smiling brightly* “I don’t think so I-i have to see how to better Lucy’s chances” *I look at him and my nose crutches from his response* “you mean your tribute right?” *I say harshly* “Yes, is their something the matter y/n?” *he responds more in colder tone* “it’s-s just seems like your mind is more on the girl then the goal of winning I mean she’s not the strongest tribute and doesn’t seem that smart” *I say as my words drop with venom getting so hung up on my words I don’t notice his expression to get more pissed* “Y/n! I have to spend my time on her, okay? I don’t have the riches to pay for the academy I need to be on this scholarship you can’t even view my point as your life is handed to you” *he says coldly making me shiver and I realize where I went wrong* “Coriolanus wait-t I didn’t, I wasn’t trying to make it seem that way!” *I say as my face blush’s from the embarrassment and I try to resolve this small argument* “y/n just shut it I have to get back to Lucy” *I feel this utter poison in me as I grab onto his shirt as he begins to walk away* “STOP! Don’t leave me!” *i say as a demand he quickly turns and looks at me but his eyes cold his look disturbed with my existence* “you’re just a stupid bunny” *he says as his words feel like a ridicule*

I’m end it here cause I started to hate it 🥲 if you have any suggestions or anything just tell me plz

[ada7201]

I like your writing about the Blue Lock player female reader! Can you do a Sae one? Sae saw the reader for the first time in the Blue Lock vs Japan u20 match. Before the match, he hears something about a girl being a football player in Blue Lock. This surprised him and made him curious about why would they let a girl in a male team. He didn't think much about it, as he is on his arrogant and egoistic self as usual. When he sees the reader, he falls in love with her. He had never seen such a cute and beautiful girl like her before. During the match, the reader crushes him badly. She takes the ball from him so many times, she outsmarts him very easily and sometimes he doesn't even notice that he doesn't have the ball anymore. From the moment he notices it, the reader will already make a goal. Her football skills impress him so much. He never thought that a girl like her would be good at football, even better than him. He wanted to talk to her. After the match, while Ego lets the players go outside to spend a day, Sae finds the reader. He told her to be his striker and come to Spain with him. Sae thinks that she is the only person who deserves his passes. He wanted her to be his striker and wanted to be her midfielder. But it's not just about football. Sae was using football as an excuse to spend time with her.

STOPP this one is such a good idea!! im so excited to write this one (˃̵ᴗ˂̵) also, i haven’t finished the blue lock manga and i don’t know how the u20 match finished - but since we’re the main character here, i’ll just make it end how i want :P also, i misread a bit of your request so i made it that we have a little crush on Sae. oops. sorry, hope that you still enjoy this 🥲

and im so glad you liked my writing! ♡

an angel? ★彡 Itoshi Sae x female reader

(im also open for more requests, so feel free to suggest some things!)

“Sae! have you heard about the girl at blue lock?” Oliver would ask the man in front of him. “apparently she’s a real looker! you think she’d go for a man like me?” he chuckles, grinning at the thought of you - you must be really talented.

“a girl?” Sendo would raise an eyebrow at Oliver’s bold words. “there’s no a way a girl would be on an all boy’s team! that’s impossible.” he adds.

“nah, i saw her!” Shidou would beam from behind the three males. “she was hot! like, a total babe! you get where im coming from?” he swooned, thinking back on the first time he met you - you were standing next to that strange kid… Isagi, or something? he wasn’t paying attention to him - his eyes were focused on you.

“yeah, sure.” Sae scoffed, rolling his eyes at his teammates behaviour. you’re just a girl, not much to talk about. although, it did intrigue him. how was a girl allowed in the team?

he shouldn’t dwell on it - he’ll learn more during the match. with a girl on the team or not, he’ll crush blue lock easily.

when the u20 team finally got onto the field, Sae’s sharp teal eyes immediately landed on you.

his eyes widened at the sight of you.

there you stood, in all your glory, simply stretching out a little with a gentle smile on your face - listening to your teammate Bachira ramble.

were you… glowing?

is that an angel?

“she’s cute, isn’t she?” Shidou snickered from behind Sae. “not as cute as you〜” he’d add with a wink.

Sae payed no mind to Shidou’s comment, he simply kept his eyes on you.

had he ever seen such a beautiful girl? everything you did was just - wow!

as the match started, Sae was basically hypnotised as he watched you play.

then, he’d finally shake his head and say things like “no more. get that - stupidly cute girl off of your mind and play!”

but you’d be right there. he had gotten the ball after ages - and was just about to pass it - before you ran straight past him, that cute smile on your face as you snatched the ball from him.

he didn’t even notice.

“she looked at me.” he’d think, eyes shimmering at the thought that you looked at him!

he’d snap out of it quickly as he realised there was no ball at his feet, quickly turning his body before his eyes once again, landed on your retreating figure.

goal! l/n y/n scored!

he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“Sae! what are you doing?!” Oliver would shout from the other side of the field. oh, right - he was in a match. an actual match - against blue lock!

you giggled softly at the man’s silliness, he had completely zoned out!

he looked handsome even while staring into space, you thought.

you watched as Sae got back into position, admiring his features. you’d watched a few of his matches before, trying to educate yourself and find ways to win and improve - but you never expected for Sae to be so … hot.

of course, his games were very good to watch - you learnt his technique and how he plays, along with how to beat him - but now that you’re seeing him in person, you finally remember how handsome he is!

you squealed softly to yourself, hands placed on your warm cheeks as you giggled. he’s so cute!

“y/nnn! get back to the game!” Bachira would chuckle at your behaviour. he knew how you felt, he listened you whenever you’d talk about your mini crush on Sae.

it started off as a celebrity crush, but now that he’s really here - you think you actually like him!

“don’t tell me you’re crushing on my lukewarm brother?” Rin asked, raising an eyebrow at your behaviour. “we’re supposed to be learning how to beat them - not how to fall in love with them.” he’d sigh, closing your laptop.

right! you’re not here to giggle about.

you rushed straight towards Sae - who had the ball at the moment - and aimed to take the ball away from him, only for him to pass it towards Shidou.

you huffed, running towards Shidou instead. how annoying, you thought!

Sae thought he could die right there. the face you made was so cute! he watched the way you took a pass from one of your teammates, and scored, yet another, goal.

by the time the match was done, you had scored the most goals for your team - and had forgotten about Sae, along with your little crush. that didn’t even matter - you won!

you giggled with your team, hugging Rin tightly.

“we won!” you cheered, ignoring the way his cheeks grew red at the sudden embrace.

Sae watched with a frown.

he remembered each score you managed to get, each time you stole the ball from him, and each time you ran by him - he thought he was in love.

he had never seen a girl so good at soccer!

was she better than him? she had to be! how could she outsmart him like that? and so easily, too!

Sae watched as your team left, and he couldn’t shake the feeling off that he needed to talk to you.

so that’s what he did.

as soon as you got out of the locker room, he walked towards you - teal eyes narrowing.

“y/n!” he’d call out, speeding up slightly to catch up to you.

you turned around at the call of your name, your pretty e/c eyes widening at the appearance of Sae.

he was even prettier up close.

“y/n, right?” he says, looking down at you. he watched the way you hesitantly nod, tilting your head to the side curiously after.

“look, i have something to propose -“ he starts, followed by a sigh. “be my striker. come to Spain with me, you’re the only player that could ever deserve my passes. please?” he said, rather bluntly.

you just stared up at him, eyes wide - what?

“i mean - okay - but, what about blue lock?” you ask, nervous. what was he even saying? and why did you agree without knowing? what are you doing!

“i’ll take care of it.” he said simply.

“you’ll take care of it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow

“yes.” he responds quickly. “you’ll be my striker, and i’ll be your midfielder. you won’t have to worry about blue lock again.” he adds.

you just nod at his words, suddenly feeling butterflies. was it always this hot?

Sae looked down at you. his striker! he was so excited.

he tried his hardest to hold back the smile on his face, but couldn’t resist once he saw you giggle excitedly.

“yay!” you cheered, before giving the man a hug. “i’ll be your striker!”

are you an angel?